


Lost In Nightmares

by Thatcher_Issues



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Comfort, Cuddling, Daddy Issues, Definitely some succ, Depression, Fluff, Gay, Gentle Sex, Hurt, I take forever to update, M/M, Penetrative Sex, Romance, This is weird, Unprotected Sex, age gap, lots of daddy issues, maybe a lot of issues, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 107,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatcher_Issues/pseuds/Thatcher_Issues
Summary: Being thrown into a fight or die situation whilst you were already agitated caused you to make a split second decision that was built on years of abuse and loneliness. You were ready to sacrifice yourself, mind set on doing good before you die.Somehow, all of those years growing up in a world full of hatred and darkness ended up benefitting you.Making it out alive of a situation that should have killed you garnered the interest of the most feared team of counterterrorist’s, the elite of the elite, Team Rainbow Six.Dr. Harishva Pandey, the new director of Team Rainbow, was already dabbling on the idea of a civilian built team of CT’s, having them act as a back up for home defence, leaving the seasoned operatives available for larger, international missions.You were the first “civilian” to be offered a place and accepted in the team, under the watchful eye of the team’s most decorated and praised operator.Within seconds of meeting this man, all of these urges and your deepest desires came bubbling up, and you knew from the get go that you had fallen in love with him, but how do you tell him? Does he know? You don’t want to come across as needy and desperate, but he even seems to like that.





	1. A perfect start

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow a notes page
> 
> Sorry, nothing interesting here!  
> Enjoy.
> 
> (Other than the fact that the only time I tend to write this, is at about 3-4 in the morning, when I’m really tired...but that’s not that interesting).

# Issues Within

#### Chapter One

#### 

“Are you taking the fucking piss? Engine management light fuck off, it’s only a lambda sensor, it’s STILL THERE!”  
It was only 7:30am, your first day at your new job, the sun was already out and the birds were singing, and your car decided that it doesn’t want to start.  
Typical.

You got back out of the car, slowed down, took a deep breath and thought for a second, “c’mon (Y/N), think of something...”  
A small groan escaped your tired lips as your mind slowly went blank.  
A thud echoed out in the open air as you smacked your head against the roof of your car in frustration.  
But that’s all it took to jog your memory, as you leaned in to your car and pulled the boot release lever.  
Almost excitedly did you rush to the rear, reaching in and proceed to pull out a box.

“Hello OBDII code reader, tell me the issue with this wank” you smile and laugh as you then grab your laptop afterwards.  
Ecstatically pacing back to the front of the vehicle, you got in, narrowly missing your head.  
You place the laptop and the box down on top of the passenger seat, then make sure the ignition is all the way off.  
Slender hands frantically opened a small side compartment on the bottom right of the passenger side footwell, behind it lays the OBDII port, which you then plugged the code reader into.

As you gleefully turned the ignition over, the electrics came on and the code reader started working.  
Though here, your happy mood dropped, as it threw three more codes at you that you didn’t expect.  
Realising that this is going to take longer than you expect, you take a moment to sulk and feel sorry for yourself.

“Are you honestly taKING THE FUCKING PISS...AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH” You scream, sending the birds in the vicinity to vacate. The chirping stopped and your thoughts became louder.

“Laptop, you better not give me any grief or so help me I’ll send you out the window” You fiddle with the equipment, booting up some sort of tuning programme, as you plug in the laptop to the port that the code reader once was.  
Concentrating hard like you’ve never concentrated before, you began typing furiously, clicking, scrolling, dragging and dropping. To anyone else, they’d be completely lost, but to you, and a few others who are trained in this profession, they know that you’re fine tuning the ECU of your car to fix the electrical ‘malfunction’ that was stopping the car from starting.

As it turns out the previous tuner added a safety lockout to the ECU. After clearing the codes and readjusting the fuelling, you tried once more to start your car.

Turnover, tick tick tick...the sounds of the engine and the many components priming is a start.  
Now the moment of truth.  
You turn the ignition slightly more, all the way, and you feel the car cough and sputter, as it slowly but surely roars to life.  
Once again, your frown is turned upside down as you grin the widest you possibly could.

“(Y/n), you fucking genius! Why I’m not doing this for a living I don’t know” you spoke to yourself once again, boosting your own confidence.  
“Little blue Nissan, I love you dearly”  
You say, as you unplug the laptop and pick up the code reader. Slowly walking to the boot, you place the equipment back inside, closing the boot, you quickly run and jump back in the car, ready to floor it out to make up for lost time.

“Fuck it, I should wait until it has warmed up...but just this once won’t hurt.” Famous last words no?

Carefully did you reverse it out of the driveway, making sure not to scrape on anything.  
You reach the end, swinging it around, you put the clutch in, and select first gear.  
Letting off the clutch gently and slowly whilst dabbing on the accelerator to keep the revs up, you prepare to launch down the road, not giving a single fuck about the neighbours.

The straight six, twin turbo charged engine absolutely roared, as you opened up the car and all 593 brake horse power, screaming down the road. Being a small rural village in the UK, the roads weren’t long, the first junction came quickly. As you approach the end of the road, you let off and start braking gently, as the revs dropped, you heard the car burble, and then backfire. A loud boom echoed off of the brick walls either side of the narrow asphalt track.  
Only one thing came across your mind when that happened, “I should apologise for waking them up…ehhhh nah they’ll get over it.”  
Not an ounce of guilt on your face as you remind yourself that you won’t be seeing them anytime soon, and that your excessively loud car is of no issue to them anymore.

Your faint smile slowly turned into the widest grin as you put your foot down, watching the sign that reads “Thank you for driving carefully” pass you in a blur.  
Every downshift your eyes would glint, every turn your heart would flutter, the turbo spooling up was enough to make you giggle and the blow off valve made you want to cry tears of happiness.  
But deep down, you felt sad.  
You have the car of your dreams in your possession, an amount of money you were luckily gifted with, and now a job that even you don’t understand how you got it.  
You never applied, you never asked, you’ve not once been in any sort of military or CTU, and never had any training.  
Yet here you are, on your 2 hour drive to RAF Hereford, about to join the world renown and supposedly secret Rainbow Six! This sounds like a movie where everything just goes right for the main character, but you couldn’t just help but feel like something is missing. It’s been nagging you for years; this empty feeling. The deepest depths of depression eat you alive when you least expect it to, and to beat it requires the right person to help. You’ve never had help with it before. 

Maybe things will change for the better, now that you’re essentially starting a new life. The thought of that made you relax, and you felt happy, though such feelings were short lived. 

That is because another 30 minutes are added to your journey and you’re stuck screaming at traffic on the M40.

Your brows furrowed and your eyes flicked from car to car, chanting under your breath are the words “wanker, bastard, nonce, fuckboy, financed wankwagon, can’t afford the same colour door, wonky wheeled foureyed troglodyte”.  
This was almost religious for you, as you scanned every other driver on the road, swearing under your breath out of frustration.  
It’s a habit of yours, a coping mechanism even.  
Then the vehicles all came to a steady halt. A traffic jam at this time wasn’t on the cards.  
Rolling in second gear at 15 miles per hour wasn’t how you imagined your journey.  
You put the clutch in, and go straight into neutral, letting off the clutch and steadily stopping, you prepare to start scanning everyone else on the road and start muttering every curse you know, until you look to your right to see a man, you guessed early 50’s, looking equally as irritated and fed up.

He was handsome, had short brown, very slightly greying hair, what looks to be deep brown eyes and a fuzzy but well kept beard.  
He looked over to you, winked, and gave you a small smile amidst this gloomy traffic. In that split second you felt some sort of mutual connection with this man, as you both changed your fowl moods to that of a warm and welcoming one.  
Your eyes softly widened in response and you managed to pull the corners of your mouth up, in hopes that he sees your pleasure at his kind gesture.  
Then you feel a twinge of sadness overwhelm you as realisation struck, and the only thing on your mind now is that mystery man.  
“Fuck...I’ll probably never see him again” the way you choked that out was almost like a cry of agony, how quiet yet painful it sounded, it’d be embarrassing for anyone else to hear you like that.

As the traffic started to speed up, and the motorway started clearing, you look ahead to see the deep red Jaguar XKR-8 pacing along, you take a mental note of the private number plate, chanting it until it gets stuck in your head, “M22 BAK...” over and over.  
Once you were sure it was in your mind for good, you decided to shake your head, and take a second to remember your own advice, “Live happier in the future by leaving behind what will hold you back in the past”.  
Just like that, you drop a gear, heel and toe downshift, and again once more as you rev match, now into 4th gear, literal fireballs shooting out of the exhaust and what could only be described as gunshots sounded out, you plant your foot straight to the floor, your car picking up speed instantaneously as the AWD system helped you grip, you shot past the Jaguar, giving them a friendly wave goodbye, for what will be forever.

“Don’t forget (y/n), don’t let anything drag you back down. If you aren’t happy now, make sure you are in the future” you talked to yourself like this almost all the time, and it’s what keeps you going. It’s what made you a survivor.  
It’s what got you here.  
It’s what made you who you are.

##### 2 hours later

##### 

Your sat-nav suggested that you will arrive at your destination in exactly 10 minutes time, but you were determined to make it in less than 8. Your grip firm on the leather steering wheel, your mind focusing on the road ahead, just twisty, smooth and thrilling back roads to the world renowned Hereford Base.  
Trees and shrubbery passed by in a blur of green, your eyes watching out for every little crack, bump, pothole and other potential hazards on the road. Fields full of sheep, cows and horses became nothing more than a slight touch of colour in the verde landscape.  
What your eyes didn’t see was the deep red in the rear view mirror, the colour refused to be shaken off.

The annoying, robotic voice in your ear became louder and more frequent as you neared the destination. More roads off into what seems the middle of nowhere, you became some what skeptical and even a little anxious. You had cut the time down by 4 minutes, and the sat-nav read 2 minutes to your destination, yet nothing was in sight. High in the hills, you could see for miles over the green and yellow farmland.  
You thought to yourself, “Is this all actually real? Am I being played? This isn’t right, it’s too quiet around here, maybe I took a wrong turn...but I put in the address that Harry gave me after the brief meeting. Shit...fuck sake”. You shook your head hoping that it’s just you being the usual klutz and overthinking it all.

Luckily, as you came around the last couple of bends, you come across a heavily fenced area. Barbed wire across the top and security gates across the road. Turning left and in to the fresh tarmac passage, you pulled up to the gate, either side sat small security posts, with only one man watching.  
You came to a stop and rolled down the window as the guard walked over.  
He took a glance behind you and flashed a smile, but you ignored it, thinking it was probably someone passing by.

His attention is diverted back to you, mouth slightly ajar like the words in his mind couldn’t escape his mouth. You knew what was going to ask for, so you passed over your letter and driving license. He pulled opened the door into the small box like building, grabbed a clipboard and scanned through.  
“All good my friend, here’s your license back. Once you’ve parked your beauty up, Harry will find you to talk you through a few things!” The man’s friendly tone helped ease you in, his Italian accent stood out though.  
“Cheers, thank you sir!” You tried to be as polite as you can, with a hint of professionalism.

“Please, don’t worry about such formalities (Y/n)! Call me Adriano from now mio amico!”  
He smiled wide from ear to ear, you can make out a small scar across his lip, made obvious by the lack of beard in the one spot.  
You smiled back once more, placing your license back in your wallet which you tossed onto the passenger seat.  
Then the Italian leaned in once more,  
“What car is this? Sorry I am curious, it makes a wonderful difference from the Jeeps and the Jags! This blue is beautiful!” His comments made you feel giddy, and you felt proud that someone appreciates your car.  
You hold yourself back from going off on one, and simply reply to him, “Oh, it’s just an old Nissan...if you ever want I can take you out in it whenever you have some time?”  
You offer him out of kindness in hopes that such a gesture can initiate a good friendship.  
“Oh, I see I see, eye catching for sure! If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say the car is older than you! No means to offend, my friend.”  
“None taken—I’m a year older, so you’re close.” You couldn’t help but smile when you spoke to him. “Though the way you drove it, I think I’d start spewing everywhere!” Adriano laughed, but didn’t entirely reject the offer.

“Sorry, I was just trying to make up for lost time...fucking traffic jams. I wouldn’t drive like a dick when I have passengers!” You reassured him that he’d be fine, feeling a little childish knowing that he could hear or see you ‘having fun’.  
Being around the Italian you couldn’t help but feel relaxed and comfortable, but you knew you had to leave so you could make it in on time.  
After he finished chuckling, you piped up once more, “Have a good day Adriano!” Giving him a smile and a thumbs up, before putting the car into first and revving up to 6000 revs, anti-lag cutting in as a sound that could easily be mistaken for automatic gunfire sounded out, you let the clutch out and launched the car down the long straight road, completely oblivious of the ominous red car that was behind him waiting.

—

“Fookin’ Jesus Christ that’s going to put me into early retirement” The man in the red car spoke up to the Italian, passing his identification card over.

“Oh shut up Mike, you’ve got many more years left still!” Replied the Italian, chuckling again as he passed the older man his ID card back.

“Is there any point with these ID cards after the fifth time?” Joked the Brit, putting the card on the centre of the dashboard.

“Probably not, but rules are rules...unless you’re Mark, then rules are just boundaries” the two laughed for a minute at the Joke, before waving each other off as the deep red car drove down the straight.

—

You pulled up into a parking spot, next to a jeep...of course.  
As you open the door you feel the weight of it lifted from you as it seemed to open by itself, only to look up and see a familiar face.

“Good morning (Y/n), glad to see you arrived safely! Thankfully I could tell you were coming from a mile away, but don’t take that as a dig at you or your machine. If anything, it puts me at ease.” Of course, it was none other than Harry himself, Director Six. The new Six, from what you have been told.  
He’s a very friendly and open figure, he was as welcoming as the morning sun, which you enjoy the company of regularly.  
“Sorry for the rude awakening” you scratched the back of your head as you apologised.

“No apology needed (Y/n), but thank you for the consideration” Six smiled softly and stretched his hand out, which you took with a strong grip, shaking his hand.

Harry continued on after releasing himself from the handshake, “Come this way to my office if you will (Y/n), don’t worry about your luggage. Once you’re acquainted with the few operatives I have here to get you integrated, they’ll give you a hand with it all afterwards!”  
Six ushered you over as you locked your car. Sliding your keys and wallet into your pocket, you paced over and followed him inside.  
Taking your first full look inside was something incredible. The outside represented almost nothing of the inside. It was a perfect mixture of an olden traditional English house, with modern touches.  
The reception area was large enough to hold 60 people, arms stretched without an issue. Creamy/white tiles covered the floor, spotless between the lines. The walls lined with a beige wallpaper with wooden support beams coming through the top and across the high ceiling, a simple chandelier dangles from middle. Along the walls were an array of decoratives, pictures and paintings. As for the floor, a few sofa’s and chairs, and a couple of coffee tables were dotted about.

Six spoke up, waking you from your haze, hand beckoning you to follow, “you’ll have plenty of time to take the rest in shortly (Y/n)”.  
Your legs moved on it’s own as you obeyed him.  
The walk to Director Six’s office felt longer than the entire journey to Hereford.  
Your palms began to sweat and your teeth chattered, “deep breath (Y/n)...don’t let it beat you” reassuring yourself within your own thoughts, you thought off the feeling of overwhelming anxiety. You gave your head a little shake and followed Harry through to his office.

He pulled a chair out for you, “please take a seat and get comfortable”.  
You slowly lowered yourself into the seat, and placed both hands on your lap. Harry walked around to his side of the desk, arms flat on top as he leaned over slightly, hands clasped with his chin resting on top.

“Nervous?” He asked, as he watched your fingers tapping rapidly in sync.

“Am I expected to be” was your reply, though it came out a little blunt.

“Expected in all honesty, considering your situation too...let’s get on to this.”

Time seemed to stop, and it felt like someone has just put everything on mute.  
Your head starting swimming, all of these conflicting emotions inside stirring up, causing you to black out momentarily.  
But you blink once, twice, three times.

“...seeing your situation, this is something new. New for you in the aspect that you’ve never had this kind of work before, nor have you ever been trained for this kind of work. New for us as we’ve never had what we would consider an ‘outsider’ become recruited to Team Rainbow.  
But, there’s a reason you’re here and you’ll be perfectly fine in our hands. We have only the best interests, and the best men and women in the world here. They’ll be sure to make you feel welcomed...maybe not Taina, but she’s a different story altogether.” Harry laughed the last of his own comment off.  
He looked to you with a friendly gaze, which you reciprocated with ease.  
“Any questions?”

You thought hard, but the only thing that came to mind was just self questioning, “did I black out? What did I miss?” You felt embarrassed knowing that you unintentionally ignored the majority of Harry’s introduction, but decided to be the idiot and not man up and ask him to repeat the whole thing. Instead, you smiled and shook your head.

“Good! Well that is excellent timing then, as Operative Baker, Operative Brunsmeier and Operative Streicher are ready to show you the ropes!  
Here’s your ID card for whenever you need to leave the base, don’t lose it! I guess here’s the official welcoming! Welcome aboard (Y/n)! You’ll figure out your own operator field name in due time.” Just like that, Harry stood up, smiled and left. Leaving you to face 3 people you’ve never met before.

Placing a hand either side of the desk, you pushed yourself up and stretched. Carefully, but not too slowly did you turn around, only to be met face to face with a man you never thought you’d see again.

That oh so familiar face, you can vividly remember his smile, his eyes, the way he winked at you. How it made you feel butterflies, and how it hurt you to say goodbye before you even introduced yourself.

Is this luck?  
Or is this the beginning of something worse?


	2. Instant connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t do summaries...I can...but I don’t wanna.
> 
> _____________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you get lost in some of the car stuff, I don’t blame you.  
> I’m hoping that your obsession with vehicles helps you bond with Bandit and Jäger, I mean, they’re both loveable as fuck anyway, but just thought it’d be cool to throw in some of that nerdy shite.  
> Seeing as Bandit likes his bikes, Jäger likes anything mechanical just about. I think it’s a good base for a lasting friendship.

You thought that your mind was playing tricks on you, maybe it’s not the same guy you saw on the motorway.  
But the intense gaze that fell on you felt all too familiar, and once again your eyes met, this time without any car windows in the way. For what felt to be the 100th time today, you lost all train of thought and your mind went blank. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, the darkness inside enveloped you in its crushing grip as it gradually built up inside. Then it vanished.

Operative Baker looked towards you quizzically, noticing your small black out. A soft smirk spread across his lips for a second, “Nervous lad?” The thick, deep voice was like music to your ears, and you wanted to listen to more of it. But his voice reminded you to speak up and answer his little question, and that’s when your bad side came in.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”  
That came out as bluntly as it possibly could, which left the older man less than impressed.

This just added one more issue to your ever expanding list.  
One more thing on your mind that will come back to haunt you.  
These black outs happen way too frequently and almost every time they happen, it results in some sort of negative consequence on your behalf. It’s something that seems so uncontrollable yet tame.  
You will think over and over before giving an answer or even answering to someone’s calls, but your subconscious talks for you, and you fight yourself every minute of every day in hopes of gaining control of the beast inside of you.

Snapping back to reality, you find yourself shaking hands with a heavily tattooed man wearing a leather cut off jacket, with patches embroidered all over it.  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/n)! Mein name ist Dominic Brunsmeier, but please, call me Dom! In the field you’ll know me as Bandit!”  
His heavy accent accompanied by a couple of rogue words let you know that he’s one of the Germans from the GSG9 CTU.  
As the grip on your hand was released, you found yourself face to face with another of the Germans.  
“Marius Streicher, GSG9. You’ll know me and call me by Jäger in the field.”  
His tone of voice seemed serious in comparison to that of his brother in arms. You smiled towards him and took his hand firmly for a few seconds.

Baker had stood in the doorway, holding the brown door open, “I don’t think Six would want us all standing around in his office when he’s not here. (Y/n), if you don’t mind taking us to your car so we can get your belongings, presuming you brought some?...” you looked up to the familiar face and nodded, “...I’ll happily help you move them to your new room. I’d preferably like to show you around sooner rather than later, it can get a little packed during the afternoon.”

One by one, you all left the room, wandering into the corridors of the base. Walking back to the reception you pass some new faces, which they all gave you a slight smile and welcomed you with warm eyes.

Walking out of the base sent a shiver that traveled down your spine, as the sudden bite of the cold morning wind caught you out.  
Slowly pacing to the car park, you spot that familiar red car parked next to yours. No mistake as the number plate reads M22 BAK.  
Reaching into your pocket and pulling out a set of keys, you grab hold of the car key between your thumb and index finger and walk up to the boot, inserting the key into the lock on the rear.  
Then the ‘serious sounding’ German piped up in an unexpected manner, “Holy Scheiße! Th-this is your car? Mein gott it’s beautiful!” To you, Marius’ complimentary comments seemed uncharacteristic for him, but of course you accept them with welcoming arms, as your first mission you have given yourself is to make sure you get on good terms with everybody.

“Yeah this...this is my pride and joy. Makes my life a little more bearable.” Replying back honestly was the best way to go, you didn’t shy away from mentioning the fact that you have few ‘issues’.

“You may have to restrain me...my curiosity has piqued and I’d love to get my hands on with it. Not like drive it, but you know, mechanical work. It’s what I like doing in my past time!” Operative Streicher sounded awfully close to that of an overexcited child.

“You would have been extremely useful this morning! Useless rubbish almost left me stuck at home” you smiled at the German man, laughing at your own mishap earlier.

“Is it broken?” He asked.

“A few codes popped up, one due to the lambda sensor, but that shouldn’t have caused it to not turn over. Yes it’s got a decat before you ask. Apparently the ECU couldn’t read the fuel pump, but I managed to fix the issue”. Luckily you thought about what you were going to say, instead of coming out with an answer that looks as equally blunt as it would have sounded.

“I can imagine I’d find you sat outside staring at your car in your free time!” The sudden change in voice was subtle, as Dom spoke up.

“If I could I’d spend every minute staring at it” Chuckling at the bearded German’s small comment.

Reaching into the boot, you pulled out a couple of suitcases and bags.  
You reached up to pull down the boot, and firmly but carefully pressed down to make sure it had closed.

“Here, let me give ya a hand” That smooth, deep voice rang through your ears, hearing operative Baker offer to help you. You watched as the Older Brit grabbed two small bags and the large suitcase.

“Oh, thank you, but don’t worry about the suitcase, I can bring it myself” you tried hard to sound sincere whilst showing your gratitude to the man, which earned you a small grin.

“No no, I insist (Y/n)!” He was dead set on helping you bring them in, so you didn’t pressure and let him.  
Grabbing the handle of your second suitcase and swinging the other backpack over your shoulder, you then made your way back inside, following Baker towards the dorms with the two Germans in tow.  
You all stopped mid way through, as the call of the Germans gained your attention,  
“Mike? could you both meet us in the main hall once you’re done? Me and Dom need to go to our room to sort a couple of things out.” Marius looked to you both with a soft smile.

Baker looked back and chuckled,  
“Do what ever you both need. I can’t exactly dictate what you can and can’t do”. Just like that though, they waved off and opened a door into one of the private dorms, disappearing until the next time.

As you carried on walking, the older man spoke up again. “I think they just wanted a quick cheeky shag. Had my suspicions for a few years now.”  
This caught you off guard as you seemed to choke on thin air and burst into laughter.

“C’mon, this way (Y/n). Our room is the furthest away”.

“Our room?” You thought.  
In fact, you thought too hard. Again your mind went haywire, but you brushed it off, trying to avoid any sort of unwanted attention.

After walking what felt like a half marathon, you came across a door with a name plate on it reading ‘Mike Baker’.  
The older man inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. Walking through as he stepped aside to let you pass, you were taken aback by the size of it. You can see there are more rooms inside, it wasn’t just a simple dormitory. It felt like a home inside of the base.  
The majority of the floor was carpeted, walls decorated and furniture carefully positioned. It was spotlessly clean.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with a grumpy old fooker like me. Don’t worry, I don’t snore!” The older man smiled at you, as he carefully placed your bags down.  
“If you couldn’t already tell, we’re in the living room, and to the right here is the kitchen. First door on the left is the bathroom, second door the bedroom. There’s two king sized beds in there, so don’t worry too much, you’re not sharing a bed with me...” your ears were tuned to his tone, listening to every word Operative Baker dribbled out, you felt almost lost listening to his voice.  
“...I do apologise if you were expecting something a little more private though. There aren’t any more rooms at the moment, so I thought I’d best take ya in to mine considering that you’ll get to know me a little more than the other operatives here. Six has placed me as your primary trainer and mentor here.” Looking towards him you noticed he had picked up some of your bags and was waiting by the bedroom door, so you followed suit and carried your belongings over and passed through the door that the older man kept open for you, thanking him.

“I don’t mind at all where I sleep. Could have just put me on the floor, as long as I’ve got a roof over my head I can’t complain.”

“Well (Y/n), I could always buy ya a dog bed if that’s what ya really wanted”

Both of you laughed at the silly suggestion that Baker made, but in reality, you wouldn’t of minded that at all. Not because you’ve secretly wanted to be someone pet dog, but for the fact that you would be happy enough with any form of shelter.

“Sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly either. Mike Baker, former Staff Sergeant in the SAS. You’ll know me as Thatcher in the field of work...don’t ask how I got the name”  
But it was obvious as he left himself open for it.

“Oh, okay sure thing Maggie, I won’t ask” you suppressed a chuckle as best as you can after your slight sarcastic comment.

“Oh you cheeky fooker...” the older man sighed but ended up breaking out in laughter, not expecting you to of found out your forbidden nickname.

Mike wasn’t very fond of the nickname in honesty, he hated it as much as he hated the woman that the name comes from. But he wouldn’t flip out on a new recruit over it. His co-workers know to never call him Maggie, and not a single soul even thought about calling him it as a joke ever since James Porter got the pleasure to meet Mike’s left fist.  
Mike was taken aback at how quick you were, but secretly was pleased to have another ‘quick thinker’ in Rainbow. He could lift a mood in a split second and surely bring many laughs to the operators.  
His furry lips curled upwards ever so slightly, which put you at ease. The familiar comforting smile was followed by a small wink that sent the butterflies in your stomach ballistic.

“Enough gawking kid, we’ve got to find those two wankers, and get you accustomed to your new home” his slight West Country accent dripping from every word, you felt like listening to him talk all day and night.

“Am I gawking?” That came out without you even thinking.

“(Y/n)...I have eyes, and it’s hard not to notice when you’re staring straight into them with your mouth wide fookin’ open, catching every fly within a 10 foot radius. Yes, you were gawking” Thatcher sighed hard, but couldn’t help but chuckle at your dumbfounded face once you were made to realise how idiotic you looked in the moment.

At this realisation, you felt stupid and frowned, feeling like an embarrassed child, “Oh...sorry sir, I won’t do it again.” The apology came from within, wanting to build your reputation up and keep a sense of professionalism during your first few days, as to make a positive impression on your new team members.

The bearded man spoke up once more after noticing your mood shift.  
“It’s a silly thing to apologise for honestly kid, don’t ya worry about it. Just be careful not to leave your mouth open for too long around some of the others here. You’ll be safe gawking around me if that’s what your hobby is...but we’ve a couple of pranksters who wouldn’t think twice to stick something in there.”

“Like your dick...” you blurted that out a little louder than you wanted to, and way too quickly.  
Covering your mouth and sputtering on thin air again, you secretly hoped that Mike didn’t hear you, but his raised eyebrow and overall amused attitude said otherwise.

“Pardon?” Mike didn’t sound displeased, which was a relief to you as you thought you just completely dishonoured him with your witty remark.

“Nothing”  
Blunt again, but not the usual blunt. Panicked rather.

“Oh, but I thought you sai-“

“Nah I didn’t say anything, I coughed.”  
That was panicked for sure.

“Fook me, that’s what they all say. I really do not care (Y/n), it’s something we can laugh at! Jesus fookin’ Christ” Thatcher was laughing, watching you struggle to hide your embarrassment.

“You say fuck a lot.” Congratulations on pointing out the obvious. 

“It’s what working with these wankers does...” replied the veteran in the room.  
“...Fook me, fook you, fooking fook!”

“Haha...fOOk” now you started to take the piss out of his tame West Country drawl.

“Oi, piss off (Y/n)!” The older man chuckled out loud as the two of you began laughing at each other’s stupid comments.

“Aight okay off I shall piss. Any direction in particular...actually, want a lift to the destination too?” You felt yourself slowly opening up around Mike, and it’s only been around 30 minutes since you both formally met. There was something about him that felt welcoming. But one little thing kept nagging you, and you knew what it was trying to tell you.

“AIIIGht...” now Mike was doing it back at you “...I bet you sound like a bloody chav when you get angry (Y/n)” He was asking for it now.

“No...surprisingly not, though considering where I grew up it wouldn’t of surprised me if was became one. I can do chav if you want...fucking little wasteman ting getting big and that with me, al’ ave the boys round yours innit gone ruin you, why trying gassin’ me and the fam innit bruv, ” there we go, there’s the chav. You weren’t ever fond of the typical dialect that these chavs had adopted, but being surrounded by so many it caught on and you sometimes unintentionally use a few words when communicating with others.

“Sounds like you’re an expert at speaking like one if you ask me” Mike was just toying with you now, smirking as he watched you physically twitch at his comment.

“...Allow you” was all you managed to say after staring him down for a solid 10 seconds.

“There it fookin is again, haha!” Thatcher was just lightly jigging on the spot as he claimed a small victory over you.

“(Y/n)’s a chav” he repeated 4 times over.

You rolled your eyes at the man, in disbelief that the man who’s regarded as the best of the best, was acting like this.

“Fuck up then you overgrown child.” Again you let your mouth do the talking whilst your brain is still trying to construct an answer for a question that was asked 10 minutes ago.

Mike slowly stopped his jig, and returned back to his serious self. An almost straight face, followed by a rigid composure. The man cleared his throat loudly, “Right, lets get on with it then. Follow me if you may (Y/n).”  
His large hand gently pressed against the door, pushing it open for you as he stood aside once again.  
He reached into his pocket to grab a set of keys, swiftly locking the door before placing the jingling metal clump back in his pocket.  
You leant against the wall down the corridor, waiting for Thatcher to come along and take the lead, but you were somewhat surprised to feel a slight weight pressing on your right side. The SAS veteran placed his hand on your shoulder, holding on with a gentle grasp. You could feel him nudge you ever so slightly, making you walk with him.

Then something tickled the side of your cheek, close to your ear. You almost went to swat it, thinking it’s a bug, but an unfamiliar yet soothing feeling trickled down your neck, as the older man’s hot breath caressed your ear. Leaning in and speaking in a hushed tone, “I appreciate the little smile you gave me earlier in that traffic jam. Was a rather pleasant mood lifter, we could really do with a lot more of it around here. The smile suits you”

Mike caught you off guard, you felt like fainting. Even now you were still processing everything that’s happened today. The one thing that sticks out to you is how shit you felt after thinking you’d never see ‘the man in the red car’ again. Was it luck? Fate? Did you ever believe in love at first sight? You felt confused after all. Were you over thinking this? Maybe you aren’t thinking enough. Is he flirting with you already? Or you’re just reading him completely wrong? All of these questions played on your mind.

Your 21 years on this earth isn’t much compared to the man you march beside. But 21 years all alone, never getting to experience the love of a partner, and sadly never getting to know the love of a parent really hurts inside. You remember seeing kids with their parents, laughing and smiling together, and it pained you as jealousy built up inside. How you wanted to experience your mother kissing a bruise or cut to make it feel better, or just having a dad who would hug you every time you’d see him. But you never had any of that. You aren’t even sure how you survived in your twisted world. You’re desperate to feel loved.

Coming out of this deep trance of yours reminded you that this all felt ridiculous to you. You haven’t been at your new job for more than maybe a couple of hours, and you’re already falling for someone. That someone being a co-worker could spell trouble.

Then you questioned yourself again. Was it love you’re looking for? Or someone you can depend on when you need it. Someone who would give you a hand with all the small things, and maybe someone you could talk to. Life is made difficult when you can’t think straight, and when you do think, you either over do it or under do it. With all of these conflicting emotions inside, it made you question what you want. Something at the back of your mind just says that you need to talk to someone about your problems, and that’s something you agree with. The struggle is finding that someone you’re comfortable enough with, in hopes that you don’t scare them off with your inner demons.

You genuinely liked Thatcher, you’ve said it to yourself one hundred times already, that his warming presence feels welcoming. But you don’t know him that well. You’ve come here with no one, and into a job you’d considered unqualified for. That was just one more thing that played on your mind.

“Is this a dream?” Luckily you thought this and didn’t say it out loud, but it’s was almost like the older man could hear you think. You felt a small twinge of pain on your ear, but it faded within seconds. “You’re gawking again...and barely moving. I’ll flick ya ear again if I need to.” That familiar voice woke you up from your daze and confirmed that this was in fact, a reality.

“Dickhead...” muttering to yourself under your breath as you rubbed your ear.


	3. Let it slide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you’ll see a lot of reused words as I’m seriously bad at descriptive writing, and writing in general.  
> But enjoy anyway. (I secretly want to just jump to the super sad/super sexy time but I feel like a bit more development is needed. There will be a week or two time skip at some chapter just to get to it sooner. You’ll see when it is. May as well put it out there that obviously during the time skip there would be a period of nothingness, so there’s not going to be much that you’ll miss. It’ll be because I used the last of my ideas to develop any sort of relationship with the characters (that matter so much). So expect yourself to be on first name terms with everyone after the time skip.
> 
> ———
> 
> Also I’ve just realised why I’m terrible at creative writing...it’s called my mind.  
> It lacks creativeness. I’m terrible when it comes to repetition, and I struggle to ‘keep things going’ without it all sounding too similar to the last thing. I think the time skip will be a lot sooner than I expect, but oh well. I think we are all here for the “emotional wreck has a breakdown and needs comforting from daddy which then turns into some sort of hot passionate sex filled with smoochy smoochy hugs and more gay shit” because let’s be honest, we all horny for some daddy loving.

As you started nearing the main lobby, Mike released his gentle palm from your shoulder and took the lead.  
A few operators stood around chatting, glancing over towards you both, flashing smiles.  
They came over to you and welcomed you with handshakes and a couple pats on the back.

“Ayy, here’s the new guy! How are you finding it already? Name’s Eliza Cohen.” The red headed woman had a relatively bouncy personality from your first impression.  
You took her hand carefully, but surely with a firm hold. Making sure not to make it awkward by leaving her hanging.  
“Pleasure to meet you, (Y/n) here...dickhead works just as well if it’s any easier.” You don’t ever tire of putting yourself down for comedic purposes, but that’s one way you feel helps you cope.

Eliza looked at you with a smirk, holding herself back as best as she could before carrying on and introducing the other 2, who were idling about .

“This here is Echo, that’s his codename that is...”

“Enatsu Masaru, Masaru is given. It is a pleasure to meet” The Japanese man spoke up to introduce himself, before Eliza could do it for him.

“...and this is another one of our latest additions, Collinn McKinley...if you ever have to spell his first name, don’t forget it’s spelt with 2 N’s, because he likes to be the centre of attention with his incorrectly spelt name. Just don’t ask why it’s spelt that way, you won’t hear the end of it.”  
You felt like you could get on with Eliza, she had the same snarky attitude that you do, making stupid irrelevant comments as a way to lighten moods.

“You think I didn’t hear that ma’am? If you really insist though, I can tell you why my mother and father decided to spell my name how it is!  
It starts way back, March 18, 1971. I was jus-“

“No one cares Collinn with two N’s.” She was fast, which gave you some competition for the future.

“Right, Eliza, it’s good that my new recruit is getting to know everyone, but I’m looking for tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee. Have ya seen them anywhere?”  
Mike cut in, clearly getting a little annoyed at Operative Cohen for stopping him.

Your mind wondered though when listening to Thatcher speak, and three words rang out in your head, “my new recruit.”

“I’m his recruit?” You thought this over and over, unaware that you started doing your thing. That was until you felt something hit you in the back of your throat. The sudden impact made you cough and sputter.

“Oh you bloody idiot. I told ya to be careful who you start gawking around!” The older Brit looked somewhat amused, but was clearly getting a little tired of being upheld.

“Jäger and Bandit are in the main kitchen, they got hungry waiting for you, old timer” The red headed woman was sure to take a little jab, giggling away like a school girl.

“Thank you Eliza, though I’d prefer not to be reminded that I’m slowly reaching the age of retirement. I shall be seeing you then.” Thatcher was already walking off, left hand beckoning you to follow.

“C’mon (Y/n), keep up” he said as you jogged your way over to him.  
Following Mike through a couple of corridors, you arrived at the communal kitchen and dining room.

Though your arrival wasn’t exactly greeted with a friendly tone. Nor was it an angry tone. It wasn’t really any sort of mood. It was a piece of toast you were greeted with! Walking through the doors to the room, you found Bandit and Jäger, 10 feet apart throwing toast at each other. Not just slices of bread, no, they went to the effort of toasting it.  
It really made you question what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Oh my Jesus fookin’ Christ on a bike...WHAT?  
What are you two doing?!” Just like that, everyone froze. That deep, powerful voice ripping through the air. It wasn’t loud, but it had a presence that made you feel uncomfortable. Mike is big authority figure at Team Rainbow, he is feared by just about all but the dumb, yet highly respected and cherished by each and every comrade.

Dom and Marius had stopped in their tracks, looking like they had just seen a ghost. They sheepishly backed down and apologised before picking up the mess they made.

“You know? I honestly question whether or not this is actually special ops, or whether it’s just a day care for overgrown babies...yes, over grown babies with guns, terrifying!” Only slightly did Mike unfurrow his bushy brows, glaring at the Germans.

“Definitely ‘special’ that’s for sure” you’re on top with your witty remarks, really emphasising on one specific word to make sure that they know what you’re getting at.  
In turn it got you some sort of excessive exhale from Thatcher, and the Germans just looked on embarrassed.

Bandit and Jäger started looking a little sorry for themselves, feeling like a couple of children who have just been scolded.  
“If I’m completely honest, I don’t know why Six thought that you two would be good aides. I don’t think I’ve ever thought to myself in my life, you know what a new recruit needs when being integrated into an elite team of counterterrorists? An overgrown man child to show them around...actually, how about fookin’ two of them?!” Thatcher wasn’t having any of it. Something inside him seemed to of just ticked and he went off. “But that’s why I’m here no? Babysit the both of ya. I think Harry was thinking along the lines of young and energetic, someone (Y/n) could relate to. But oh for Christ’s sake, if I was to add both of your mental ages together I’d still be sitting a few short of double digits! Sometimes I feel like everyone’s dad rather than a teammate.” Mike just sighed, feeling a little defeated after his rant. You looked at him with sullen eyes, feeling sorry for him.

Just to think that this man that you already completely adore has given up this early on in the day, puts into perspective what he has to deal with, and what he may already be dealing with  
Looking up to the clock you realised that time had been passing quicker than you thought.  
You could really get on with the two Germans. There’s never a dull moment when they’re involved, and they could make a slow and tedious day into an enjoyable and exciting one.

“Marius, Dominic, you two can do as you please. You’re dismissed for this task. If Six ever asks, the introduction went well. Continue on.”

Again, Thatcher walked on, waiting for you to follow him out.  
“I’ll take you to the training room and gym next, as it’s the closest.” His gruff tone was different from the last time you two spoke one on one.

“Is everything okay sir?” You asked, feeling concerned for your new team member.

“Don’t ya worry about me, kid. I’m fine. It’s just rather frustrating having to play babysitter for those two. But please do not get me wrong, they’re wonderful...just a handful at times.” Thatcher let out an exasperated sigh as he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So what’s it like being a dad? Sorry it’s probably a bit personal” That was a rather ridiculous question, but you didn’t even think about holding back though.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell ya. I don’t have any children” Mike replied truthfully to the question.

“It must be somewhat nice for them though to have some sort of father figure looking out for them though” you muttered that out at a barely audible level, but the older man could hear you loud and clear, as your voice dropped and you silently cried for help.

“Time for me to ask the question this time. Are you alright?” You felt a hand on your back, giving you a small rub, patiently waiting on your answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why’d you ask?” It was a relatively blank reply. It took a lot in you to not just spill out and tell him everything on your mind, but you wouldn’t dare doing so in case you embarrass yourself. You don’t want to open a new can of worms on a coworker that you’ve only known for a few hours. You’d feel like a burden to them, and it’d make you sound needy.

“Are ya sure?” 

Mike knows you’re not okay. His voice hushed slightly as he continued, “You seem a little deflated (Y/n). It may just be the nerves, which is expected. But you don’t need to hide anything from me. I know I joked about being the dad of the entire team, but feel free to talk to me like I was, because I’ll listen.” He was a smooth talker, or maybe it was just the sound of his voice. Relaxing.

“I’m really fine please don’t worry about me, but thank you anyway” lying through your teeth as you smiled at the older man.

“I know there’s definitely something going on up there in yer head, but maybe you’re not ready to tell me, and I can respect that. I won’t press you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable” Every word he spoke made you want to just collapse and explain everything that’s going on in your head.  
But you reminded yourself where you are, who you are, who you’re with and what you’ve signed up to. This isn’t the time to be getting sad over stupid things.

“You’re brooding by the way”

You snapped back to the real world once again, looking at the man in front of you as his mouth lingered open like he was about to speak again.

“This isn’t the place for me to address all of my personal issues Mike. I’m here to work, not cry and ask for ‘daddy’ to help me scare the monsters in my head away” you barked back at the man, your mood changing completely in seconds as you mentally slapped yourself into gear.

“Oh fookin’ forget whatever it is you’ve got in your head about Team Rainbow. Your sense of professionalism shouldn’t be to mask your mental health issues and go on like nothing’s wrong. That’ll bring you down, as well as me and your team. Be open, tell us what’s on your mind” Thatcher’s voice wasn’t angry or upset, but it was stern. He was concerned for you.  
“At least tell ME what’s on your mind. Don’t worry, I don’t bite kid. I’ll help in any way possible. It’s no good coming into this kind of job and already being this down and depressed before you’ve even finished the introduction!” Thatcher was right though, and you know it. He’s seen right through you already, there’s no way you can hide it.

“Listen Mike...I’ll be fine, it’s just that I barely know you, or anyone else here. I don’t want to spill everything right now, it would seem unprofessional and make me look like an attention seeker. Yeah, there’s a few screws loose, but I’ll be fine. I can deal with them myself at the moment...Thank you though, and sorry.” Once more your mood changed as you accepted defeat.

“It’s okay to not be okay, just remember that” Feeling the same hand gently caress your back, you smiled slightly at the older man as he looked down to you with warm brown eyes. Brown? Being this close you could notice a light flicker of green in his gentle orbs, and by a flicker, you realised that they were more green than brown. Nether the less, they were breathtaking. You just wanted to get closer to him, feeling yourself slowly leaning towards him, but you stop right in your tracks before you make a mistake that can end your career before you even start it. How you wanted to look into his eyes for hours. It hurt.

“Yes, they are green” Thatcher chuckled, tugging you forwards, as he leads you through the halls. You didn’t notice that you both had stopped whilst having your little one on one.

Continuing on, you find yourself in the gym soon enough.

“If you have never seen one before, this is the gym” Mike joked as he waved at the few operatives who were already busy inside.

“Hey, Mike! What are ya doing here stranger?” An unfamiliar American accent rang out across the room.

“Just walking my new recruit through the building, just so he doesn’t get lost in the future” Answered the Brit, feeling a hand pat your back.

“Ah, he’s the new guy eh? Rather young isn’t he? Younger than Mark?” The American walked over and looked at you, whilst offering his hand which you took firmly.

“(Y/n) here, nice to meet you. 21 for your information” Your corners of your lips curled upwards as you introduced yourself.

“Jordan “Thermite” Trace, Demolitions expert and professional bandage wearer! Guess we have a new record holder!” The man’s Texan accent became more and more apparent as he spoke.

“Sadly we won’t be hanging around for too long Jordan, still got quite a bit more to cover.” Mike apologised to Thermite, lifting his hand to you.

“That’s no worries Thatch, catch you guys later!” Jordan walked back to his spot, continuing where he left off as you followed the veteran towards the training hall.

It looked desolate, but that’s due to the fact it is an extremely large room.  
There wasn’t much else to see so you continued on, tight on Mike’s heel.

Wandering through the halls and past many flights of stairs, you come to a stop at some double doors.

Thatcher turned around and looked at you, “through here is the evidence room and archives. Free to enter when you want, although it’s not exactly very exciting. I thought I’d rather just tell you instead of showing you around. If we speed things up I can get you back to my room quicker...or so our room” He near enough growled the last part of the sentence out. His deep and calming voice, the West Country accent just slightly slipping through. You found yourself locked on to his eyes again, those warm and inviting green orbs. So far your favourite feature of his.  
Then he winked, leaving you speechless. Your heart raced and your head spun.

Is he doing this on purpose? Does he know what he’s doing? Is he trying to play you? Or is he also interested in you?  
But you were way too young for him, surely.  
Again, that feeling of loneliness came back.  
Refocusing again, you looked straight back at the older man, you refused to do anything stupid. Not now at least.

“Smile, (Y/n)” your eyes fixed on to his furry pinkish lips.  
“It looks good on ya, remember that.”  
You fought off the negative emotions as best as you can, and forced yourself to crack a sincere grin.

You watched his big, rough looking hand carefully come up to brush your cheek, and you were surprised to find his touch to be as gentle and soft as a feather.  
You couldn’t hold back a blush as your cheeks turned pink like cherry blossoms.  
You unknowingly leant into his touch, never having experienced feeling a hand anywhere on your face being this gentle.

“You’ll be okay (Y/n). When you’re ready, you can talk to me any time, about anything and everything.”

Those words that Mike spoke stuck with you for the rest of the afternoon, seeming to be replaying on your mind every 10 seconds.  
You just knew from the start that his very presence was warm and inviting, that he’d be someone you could depend on, look up to and look to when in need.  
You felt like you found your home, and yet you still can’t muster up the courage to tell him how you feel.

Though it seems too soon still. You reminded yourself that it was only this very morning you arrived, and that Thatcher has only been apart of your life for not even 24 hours, and vice-versa.  
Yet you wondered why did he give off all of these signs this early on himself?

For once, you were happy to wait for something in your life, because you knew that at the end of it, you’d finally have somebody to talk to.  
You’ve learnt too many times that rushing things only creates more problems, and you’re determined to get things right this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also you’ll be reading ‘your’ thoughts a lot if you couldn’t already tell. A lot of things will be triggering your mind to go frantic. It’ll be explained, though parts of it already mentioned how loveless your life was.
> 
> (I imagine Thatcher to be incredible at reading people’s expressions and body language, that’s why he’s already very affectionate towards you because he knows the struggle you’re going through, so he’s already getting to work on keeping you in check.)  
> Yeah I know, it all seems to be progressing so quickly, but my mind is quite blank, so...
> 
> I mean c’mon, first day on the job, barely met this guy, you’re falling for him, you both joke with each other like you’ve known each other for years, he’s already being touchy touchy, sweet and gentle yada yada yada, oh hold on, I’ve only known you for 7 hours 34 minutes and 11 seconds.
> 
> But saying that, people will literally match on tinder and half an hour later they’re banging in the front room on the sofa and poor old Doris next door is getting an eyeful whilst watering her flowers.
> 
> But this is a highly professional job that you’ve just come to, you’re all counterterrorists and blah blah blah, this shit that shit, Chris Kirkpatrick...ah fuck it. A counter terrorist unit comprised of multiple CTU’s...Called Team Rainbow...gay af from the beginning right?  
> Also I can’t be the only one who thinks Bandit and Jäger would act like the biggest children out of everybody. Even Blitz would join in. The Germans are crazy, but we love them all.  
> Monika, you’re alright to be fair love. No hate x (you’re not actually as thick as Daddy Thatcher though, sorry).
> 
> I’ve really gone off topic. Just allow me.
> 
> Also before more confusion, you’re not actually a chav, don’t worry. If you don’t know what a chav is...google.


	4. Hunger

##### 4 hours later

##### 

You found yourself staring at the clock on the living room wall, watching the second hand slowly travel around.  
5:47.  
An irresistible aroma filled the air, as the sound of sizzling filled the quiet room.  
Starting tomorrow you will be officially listed for active duty, not knowing when you will be called up to be deployed.  
The thoughts cast a daunting shadow over you, as it finally set in. You’re in a line of work where any wrong move can end your life.

Your first mission may bring you to a new light, or it may be the very last time anyone will see you. The thought scared you, knowing that the second your name is called in to the office, you could be having the very last meeting with the director.  
But those feelings that you’re scared of now are the reason you’re here.  
You need to embrace them again, and take your job head on.

Whether you die tomorrow, or you die in twenty years, you promise yourself that you’ll make everyone proud here.  
You’ll prove that you’re just as capable.

“(Y/n)! Still awake in there?” The voice obviously belonging to the only other person in the vicinity.  
You look over your shoulder to see Mike staring right at you, a pair of tongs in one hand and the frying pan in another.

Once you finished your day 1 introduction, Mike suggested heading back to the room, as he offered to cook dinner for the both of you, as a sort of welcoming gift per se.  
Flattered by his offer, you of course accept, as you started feeling yourself getting hungry.  
You didn’t cook anything the night before, going to bed hungry as the nerves left you restless and nauseous.  
The idea of breakfast this morning went out the window when your car decided it wasn’t your day today, and you didn’t think about food at all until Thatcher mentioned it.

To say you weren’t excited for the surprise would be the biggest lie you would have told.  
You secretly wanted to bounce off of the walls, happy that someone offered to cook for you instead.  
Growing up alone, you had to learn from a young age, though one big issue that limited you until your early teens was your irrational fear of fire.  
You wouldn’t go near the gas hobs where you lived, and the oven being quite the same, stopped you from using it.  
You didn’t like using a microwave for almost everything. There was no taste to radiation heated ‘food’. Sure it kept you alive, but sometimes you secretly wished it would kill you.

You still remember the day you finally used the oven fully, fighting your phobia and putting it on the floor, you felt triumphant. Knowing that you’re now in control of the flames that once burnt you, and that they won’t touch you unless you touch them.  
It brought you a new breath of life and a few years of joy.  
But as time went on, you found that you didn’t like cooking as much as you started.  
There were maybe 4 to 5 different dishes you enjoy cooking, and more so eating!  
But it no longer seemed to tickle you. No longer feeling the same happiness that you felt before.

That happiness though, started creeping back, as you watched the bearded man get to work. The feeling that someone was there looking out for you made you smile. It was the beginning of a new happiness that you hoped would last.

Then something hit you in the back of the mouth,  
“I said you were safe to gawk around me but I couldn’t resist.” You refocused your concentration to see Mike holding a bag of frozen peas, looking down you see a single pea on the floor, the one that assaulted you.

“Dickhead” Cursing him out with a cheeky grin, you both chuckled at the stupidity of it all.

Mike never broke eye contact with you, his expression that he wore still as warm and welcoming “Next time I’ll ask for your consent, and it’ll be bigger than that pea.”  
You didn’t expect that comment at all, feeling your cheeks burn up instantly. There was no way Thatcher didn’t see it as you were still gazing into his eyes from across the room.  
Once again he smirked and winked at you.  
The signs were obvious, and all you wanted to do was act on them, but the little voice in your head told you to wait, be patient. If you’re reading him right, wait for him to make the move.

Your eyes traced the older man’s every movement, carefully watching him handle his task at hand with ease.  
Following every step he took, pacing between the oven hob and the dining table.  
Time meant nothing to you at the moment. You had no concept of it whilst you gazed at your superior, lost in a day dream.

You didn’t notice him walk up to you, even though your own brown orbs never once looked away.  
It wasn’t until that familiar, warm hand gently caressed your cheek again.  
“Dinner is ready” softly did Mike speak those three words, your eyes widened as you mentally jumped up and down in excitement. His calloused hand travel down your cheek and down your neck, coming to rest on your shoulder as you stood up from the sofa. Feeling a light pressure, pushing you forward towards the table.

“Take a seat here mate” Thatcher pulled out a chair for you, motioning for you to sit.  
“Won’t be a moment (Y/n)!” The older man walked back to the hob, grabbing two plates from a cupboard underneath the central island. Carefully plating up the food, he walked back over with both plates on the right arm and cutlery in the left hand.  
The pleasant smell only got stronger as it made its way to the table, your stomach quietly growling at you.

“I hope medium rare is good for ya! Though I can always throw it back in the pan for a minute if you want it done anymore” You stared at the dish with glee. Sure it’s a steak, to say they’re simple wouldn’t be wrong, but to get them perfect takes years, and boy did it look incredible. Homemade chips too, fried onions, peas on the side. It’s the best thing you could ask for at this very moment.

“Thank you Mike, I really appreciate it! It’s a pleasant surprise having someone else cook for me.” A sincere smile graced your lips as you looked the bearded man in the eyes for the one thousandth time today.

“Not to worry my sweet boy. Cooking is something I enjoy a lot, so don’t ever feel like a burden if you want me to cook for ya! I’d be delighted if you ever ask me to.” Thatcher’s reply was nothing but up-lifting. Whilst you sat watching the man ‘slave away’ at the stove, you felt useless, wanting to help him. But to find this out about him helped you understand him more.

Absentmindedly did you dig in to your dinner. The steak was perfectly seasoned, juicy and tender. The homemade chips had a slight crisp to the outside, the inside was light and fluffy. Every pea popped in your mouth perfectly, none too soft, none too hard, and the fried onions complimented the red meat exquisitely, adding another texture and taste to the party that was kicking off in your mouth.

You swallowed a bite and spoke up, “Mike, this is incredible, honestly...it’s perfect. I don’t really know what to say, but really, thank you...” your emotions built up inside, and you laughed at the idea of crying over good food, but it made you feel like you wanted to.  
It just felt relieving, having this done for you. You were thankful for this, thankful for Mike, who ever since the first minute you met has been nothing but considerate, kind and supportive of you, and yet this was only today that you met him.

You thought it again, is love at first sight real? Because you’re sure that’s exactly how you feel.  
Still going back to the traffic jam on the M40, the first contact you made with him, unknowing to you that he was going to be right behind you the whole way. The smile, the wink, everything.  
It felt ridiculous still, and you hoped that maybe Mike felt this ridiculous feeling too.

“Thank you (Y/n), your words of kindness flatter me. You look like you could do with a little bit of care, and I hope that this helps ease you up, and at least let you forget some of the little annoyances in your life” You couldn’t get enough of his voice, like a song you never get tired of. Hearing it made you shudder in excitement.  
“...don’t forget either, that when you’re ready, talk to me. I know you’re holding a lot back, and I’d like to help you get it off your chest.” Again, reminding you that he’d support you when you need it. There isn’t a single thing about him that you could dislike. To you, he was the living, breathing representation of perfection.  
How badly you wanted him already, it hurt you almost. But you remind yourself that it’s all in due time, and that what is meant to be will be. When Mike is ready, he will start it.

You both resumed eating in peace, feeling comfortable in Thatcher’s presence. Though the quietness didn’t last much longer. “Tell me (Y/n), what interests ya?” His deep and calming voice entered your ears. Trying to swallow some food down before you speak, leaving a slightly quiet interval before your answer, “Do you mean like, in general? Hobbies and such? Or people?” It wasn’t really an answer, but a question to a question.

“Tell me what you want to tell me, sweet” there it is once more, the pet names. They made the butterflies inside you go haywire. “Well...anything with an engine interests me I guess. Not sure if you didn’t already figure it out! Errrr...can I count dogs as a hobby? They’re just great in general. Honestly? I’m not that interesting...it’s been a rather boring life for me growing up” you admitted to Thatcher, being honest about your relatively lonesome and unexciting upbringing. “I gathered so much from your car. Kept you off the streets though eh?” His powerful gaze lingered on your lips.

“It keeps me in check” Your reply was unnecessarily blunt, though you didn’t mean for it to be.  
“Sorry” you apologised for your previous reply without even noticing.

“What are you apologising for boy?” The veteran asked, confused.

“Oh, I just replied bluntly, it was rude of me, sorry.” Again, the apology came out almost unknowingly.

Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t awkward.

Then came the next question, “Anybody you’re interested in?”  
Your heart stopped at the question.  
You knew who it was you were interested in, and it was the man asking the question. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, but your mouth says otherwise.

“You” it came out just like that, but at an incoherent level. Which you only noticed as he didn’t react.

“Who sorry? I’m not sure I caught that” Mike didn’t hear you, and genuinely asked to hear your answer again.

“No one, sorry...I haven’t met anyone that I’m interested in, and I think it’d be too soon for me to be looking for someone” You smiled through your half truth.

But Mike was smirking ever so slightly, he read through it, and what you don’t know, is that he read your lips the first time.  
It’s true, he didn’t hear your first answer, but he saw it.

“It’s never too soon or too late to fall in love, you know. Love at first sight can work, and has many times before, sweet” Thatcher’s words were encouraging to you. But you started feeling like he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he’s playing along with it, waiting for the right time too.

“But in this line of work, what’s the point? What if I fall for someone, then the next day I die? They’d be sad...or if they die? What would I do? Right now I’m new to this, I’ve been here for a few hours, so if there was someone I magically just fell in love with, then how stupid would that look?” You started ranting a bit, letting your emotions control your thoughts.  
“How would that sound? Hi there I’m new here, I’ve just met you but I love you already, hahahahahaha”  
Every single word stabbed your heart, how painful it was for you to try and flatly deny that you have feelings for someone, more so to the person you have feelings for.  
But that’s how you felt, it would all be too quick.

“Piece of advice...don’t wait to tell someone how you feel. If you don’t tell them, they won’t know. You may keep chasing them and you’ll regret it once they’re gone. Then you’ll struggle to move on.”  
Again, Thatcher was right.  
Is this what it feels like to have someone look out for you? Nonsense talking over dinner, turning into valuable life advice that you will cherish for the rest of your life.

All you could do now was look at him, a sullen smile painted your face pained.  
A part of you wanted to pounce on him, and have him hold you all night. But you held yourself back, picking up your knife and fork to finish what was left on the porcelain plates.

“Call me a soft old bastard if you may, but you’ll be fine, you’ll get through this” a warm weight held your arm down to the table, seeing Mike’s palm cover the back of your hand made the goosebumps rise. Flashing you a look of reassurance before he too resumed eating.

——

It didn’t take much longer to finish up, and before long you found yourself sitting around doing nothing again, as Mike took to the dishes, telling you to take a seat and relax.  
Wandering eyes fell on to the veteran, watching him scrub away, whistling a tune away, looking happy as Larry.

“We still have a little while left of the evening (Y/n). I’ll take ya to the range, and find you a few guns that are right for ya. You’ll want to know your weapon inside and out and be comfortable with how it feels.”  
Every time he speaks it serves to remind you how quiet it is at this end of the building.

“Sounds good to me!” Was all you replied with. But saying that, there’s not much else you could think to say.

You picked yourself up off of the sofa and walked to the door, now waiting on Thatcher to exit the bathroom.

A mere 5 minute walk from one building to another was all it took before you were at the shooting range. You spent 10 minutes waiting on the veteran to finish completing multiple load outs for you. The table in front of you offered a few varieties of weapons.  
First was a selection of handguns.  
Starting off was a 5.7 USG, followed by an M92FS, next was a 50. Desert Eagle, and last was a P226 MK25.  
Then after that were a few shotguns, a short barrelled M870, an M590A1 and an M1014 semi-automatic.  
On the SMG front you found an MP5, an MP7, an MPX and a 9x19 VSN.  
Finally, the rifles.  
Ahead of you was a 417 designated marksman rifle, an L85A2, with what looked like a couple of dog tags hanging from the side, “maybe it belonged to someone who passed on” you thought.  
An M4 was laid next to the L85, and lastly was an AK12.

“Here I’ve got a selection, you’re free to test fire them all, ammunition isn’t an issue. Each of them vary in size, weight and feel compared to their counterparts in their category. We have a much larger selection than this in general, but these are possibly the most diverse that I currently can get my hands on. Allowing you to get a feel of them all will help you decide in what you shall depend your life on when out on missions.” You never let off eye contact, listening intently to the former SAS operative, taking in every word he says.

The first thing you reach for was the P226. It had a fine grip, your hand wrapped around it well, but there’s were a couple of things you could probably nitpick at. Picking up the correct magazine, you slid it in and released the top slide, loading the handgun. Taking aim down the range, your finger covering the trigger and guard, you flick the safety off and only then put your finger on the trigger when you’re ready to fire. *Bang* The very little recoil was easy to control, and the weight of it was almost nonexistent. It almost fell back into place perfectly, the muzzle break really helping to reduce the kick of the weapon. But it didn’t quite feel right for you. But you finished firing what was left in the magazine, making sure you get a good overall feel for it, because there may come a time when you have to use it when you don’t have a choice.

Next you looked to the 5.7, picking it up and holding it in your hand, it already didn’t feel right. But you still went ahead and tested it out.  
Each shot landed, but it didn’t feel comfortable to you, writing it off the cards.

You thought you’d save the most fun for the last, so you picked up the M92FS. The weight of it perfect, the grip was excellently fitting for your hand.  
Loading it and aiming felt natural to you.  
The first shot sent shivers down your spine.  
Bang. Bang Bang. Bang. Bang, dead.  
Bang, dead.  
Bang, dead.  
Bang, dead.  
Dead.  
Dead.  
Dead.  
Blood everywhere.  
Their blood.  
My blood?

Empty.

“Clear.”

Dropping the mag and reaching for a new one absentmindedly, reloading with ease, letting the slide back into place.

“Loaded mag”

Bang.  
Bang.  
Bang.  
Bangbangbang.  
Bodies dropped to the floor in front of you, their weapons that were once trained on you fell to the ground.  
You tried ignoring the growing pain in your abdomen, taking a deep, shaky breath, you steadied yourself, about to take the final shot to finish off the last guy. But you felt a hand on your shoulder, holding you back, trying to stop you.  
Looking over to the hand that held you still, bloodied and dirty.  
A voice called out to you, “stop...they’re gone...they’re dead...please stop.” That very voice haunted you for months. But slowly and surely that voice faded, and was replaced by a calming, more familiar call.  
“(Y/n)? Hey, (Y/n)! Snap out of it boy...you’re okay, calm down please...you safe.”  
That deep, soothing tone.

Carefully you lowered the gun, releasing the mag, and placing it back on the table, you cocked the slide back making sure it was empty. Putting the gun down on the table.

“M-Mike?” It was almost like a quiet shout for help, stuttering to get the first letter out.

“I’m here (Y/n). Take a deep breath for me.” His orders were final, and you did. Slowly breathing in, holding it for 5 seconds and letting it out.  
Both of his hands resting on your shoulders.  
It was now that you realised he was facing you head on, concern laced his face.

“The M92FS wasn’t intentionally placed to trigger any sort of episode. Sorry (Y/n). I knew after the third shot that you had already been familiarised with the Beretta.” Mike’s apology came from nowhere. He shouldn’t have to apologise for something that was out of his control, out of your control. Something that wasn’t his fault.

“I-it’s not your fault sir...please don’t apologise” you almost choked that out, feeling a little lost for words.

“I shouldn’t really ask, and should call it that, but it’s up to you entirely. Would you like to carry on?”  
You hesitated at the question, but ultimately decide to continue.

“Yes. I’ll carry on Mr Baker. I’ll be okay...thank you” clearing your throat and giving yourself a mental shakedown, stretching your neck, shoulders and arms.

“Good lad.” That made you smile.

Picking up the MR Desert Eagle 50. AE you felt the weight difference. It was heavy for a handgun. A hand cannon would be more fitting.  
You picked up the magazine, loaded with 8 50. Action Express rounds, effortlessly ‘popping’ the mag in and letting the slide go, loading the gun.  
You took aim down the sights, preparing to take your first shot.

Deep breath in, exhale only a slight bit, hold...  
A warm hand wrapped around your forearm, steadying your aim and another hand pressed against your back, keeping you on your feet.  
Your stance was wide, fully prepared for the blowback.

Finger itching.

“Whenever you’re ready sweet cheeks.”

“Twat” you mumbled out playfully.

Bang.

It kicked like a pissed off horse. You definitely would have been moved back somewhat if it wasn’t for Thatcher holding you still.

“Jesus...that’s one thing ticked off of my bucket list” you laughed. Looking at the gun in your hands in delight. This was awesome you though to yourself.

You didn’t expect it to feel that powerful.  
Sure, you knew that it was an animal to control, and you knew not to underestimate it. But even then you still did. It was unreal, but it was an incredible feeling for sure.

Readying yourself again, you took aim down range. Target 50m away.

Steady.

Breathe.

Bang.

One 50. AE to the forehead of the target. The sights were phenomenal.

Again, you wanted to finish off the mag, and you did, smiling through every shot. The episode you had moments ago already clear from your mind.

Though when it came to putting it down, you felt like it lacked something, and you wanted to nitpick at just a couple of things.

Then you had to decide on what sidearm was good for you, and even though it’s mentally a tough pick for you, it was an obvious choice. The M92FS was the winner. Though the sad reality of your original familiarisation is something you have to get over at some point, you knew the gun inside and out already. You knew it’s recoil pattern. The weight of it loaded and unloaded. How it should sound when it’s in tip-top condition, and the overall look of it.

There’s a story to go with your experience with the Beretta, but you weren’t ready to delve into it just yet.

The next 15 minutes you spent with Thatcher went effortlessly. Trying out each shotgun and sub machine gun. Testing them all thoroughly, making sure you get to know them on an almost new personal level, but in the end though, they didn’t feel entirely right for you.

So finally you come to the AR’s.  
Your eyes land on the M4 Carbine, kitted with a muzzle break, an EOTech Holographic sight and a Magpul AFG2 on the under-barrel.  
Being a carbine, it was relatively light.  
No messing about, you loaded it and the safety was off within seconds.

Looking through the sight, you lined yourself up, selecting single fire to start.  
Carefully you pulled the trigger back…  
Bang.  
That felt nice, the shoulder stock pressing into you ever so slightly.  
Every trigger pull was a delight.  
But once again, your picky side spoke for you, it just didn’t feel right for you.  
Last 20 rounds in the mag, you decided to switch it to full auto.

First taking a few burst fire shots, and then with the last 10, dumping the mag into a target 30m down range.

You could get used to it, but you still had a couple more to try out.

So next you thought about trying the DMR.  
But alas, that wasn’t any good to you.  
It felt awkward to hold, and you didn’t find it too enjoyable.

So next up was the AK-12, the only Kalashnikov platform Assault Rifle on offer here.  
It was an odd feeling, it was certainly much more pleasant than the HK417, but it didn’t quite feel as good as the M4 Carbine.  
Though after a few good shots, and a full automatic dump, you can confirm that the AK accuracy myth is just an over exaggeration.  
Though obviously that applied to the original, AK-47, it was still apparent in the 5.45x39mm chambered modern AK, and it didn’t sit right with you.

Finally you come to the L85A2.  
You were hesitant to touch it. Unable to see what was engraved on the dog tags, a little part of you didn’t want to use it, thinking it may of belonged to an operative here who died.

“Don’t hesitate (Y/n), it won’t bite ya.”  
You looked up to see the older operative grinning at you.

“I jus-just don’t know if I should. The dog tags, I presume they belong to who ever owned this last? It wouldn’t be right if it used it.” Your honest reply got a positive look from the man, but he only chuckled afterwards.

“You know, that’s a noble thing of you to say honestly boyo...but there’s nothing to worry about. It’s mine. So go on, pick’er up and get a feel for it!” His hand came up and ruffled your short brown hair.  
“So that’s what it feels like huh?” You barely even murmured it out.  
Remembering back years ago, walking the paths alone, seeing happy families everywhere, mums and dads with their kids. Sometimes you’d see a young boy getting his hair ruffled by his dad, and you’d smile at how something so simple like that made a kid laugh. You never got to know that feeling.  
You never got to feel the unconditional love that a mother and father should give their children.  
Something inside you warmed, and you found yourself feeling like you’ve just gotten even closer to your superior.

Slowly reaching for the gun laid out in front of you, placing your right hand on the grip, your left coming underneath to scoop it up.  
The dog tags jingled, and carefully did you grab hold, turning them other to see Mike’s name, date of birth and blood type engraved onto them.

“Oh wow, AB+ friends!” You cheered in a humorous tone. Looking over to the man you saw him chuckling once again.

The barrel was gifted with a compensator attachment, the underslung rail had a VTAC ultralight vertical fore-grip and the last attachment to finish was a Trijicon 4x32 Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight, which is simply shortened to ACOG to make things easier.

You fell in love with it already. Weighted perfectly for yourself, your hands felt full, but in a good way, feeling comfortable against your shoulder.

Knowing that this very gun was Mike’s own, you made sure to treat it with extra care. Not that you didn’t with the rest of the firearms, you’ve taught yourself, learnt and grown to be respectful of others and their possessions.  
Everything you did with the L85 now was nothing but gentle as can be.

Slowly did you load it, careful not to scratch anything, even though it is clearly battle worn.  
You wanted to treat the weapon carefully and lovingly, as Thatcher would treat you.

Safety off, you aimed down the sight, aiming straight for the target 175m down range.  
Your finger brushed the trigger.  
Squeeze lightly.  
Bang.

You felt breathless. The shot was dead on. It felt borderline orgasmic!  
Of course, Mike’s gun is perfect, just like the man himself.  
Irresistible.

“Feels great eh boyo?”

“I want it...”

“So you’ve decided what you like already?” Thatcher asked.

“Definitely!” Replying maybe a little too excitedly, beaming with absolute joy.

“Well, don’t hold back. You’ve fired one round. Go ahead and dump 9 rounds into the target 215m down range. 3 round burst it too. You’ll have to guess how long the trigger pull is for that. You’ve only got semi-automatic and full-automatic fire on these beauties!” His orders came out calmly, and you listened. You will do as he says, make him happy.

“Here’s a hint, 775 rounds per minute.” Thatcher stood to the side, watching as you carefully centred your aim on the target he asked you to go for.

One last time, deep breath, exhale just slightly, hold...

Ba-ba-bang.

“3”

Ba-ba-bang.

“3”

Ba-ba-bang.

“3…you’re quick (Y/n), and I like a quick learner. I like them a lot” The older man counted every burst shot, making sure you got it right.  
His comment afterwards made you blush a rosy red, and there wasn’t any way you could hide it.

“And (Y/n)? When I say I like quick learners a lot, I really mean it…you’re the first quick learner I’ve had, ever.” Mike’s voice was low and hushed, was he trying to make you faint?  
The man’s hot breath tickled your ear as he whispered his little confession to you, the West Country accent made parts of you tremble uncontrollably.

You fought back every urge to fall into his arms, not wanting to be the one who initiates it all.  
The little nagging voice in the back of your head just kept telling you over and over that if he wants it too, he will make the first move.  
You were still scared that he was going to play you, or that you have been reading him wrong the entire time.

“Go on, you can full auto it, feel it empty itself everywhere.” Thatcher purposely threw that in there to make you giggle.

You regained concentration soon enough though. Wanting to focus on the targets ahead.  
The best way you can think of is to hum a song. Any song that you like, whatever song it is on your mind.

_Lately I’ve been hard to reach,_  
I’ve been too long on my own,  
Everybody has a private world, where they can be alone... 

You quietly hummed away at the introduction to the song, as you slowly came to squeeze the trigger.

_Are you calling me?  
Are you trying to get through..._

Mike heard you humming out, and couldn’t help but recognise the song. But he knew why you were doing it and thought against making a sound in case it distracted you.

His deep green eyes carefully watched you effortlessly control the recoil as you fired off every single shot in one pull.

_Are you reaching out for me?  
And I’m reaching out for you..._

It was incredible. Not a single shot missed and it all felt so natural to you. You slowly began unloading the mag, and clearing the chamber carefully, putting the gun down back on the table in front.

“L85A2 and an M92FS for you then eh? I must say it’s a very good choice (Y/n).” Mike was stood right beside you which you didn’t notice, making you jump slightly when he spoke up.

“Mhmm” was all you managed to squeeze out, nodding your head at the same time.

“Well, lets stop dilly-dallying around here then, it’s getting late. Early nights sleep will have you feeling ready for your first full day tomorrow, and I think I shall introduce you to the training simulator.” You watched as Mike picked up a few of the guns and walked off to put them away, you followed suit with a couple more.

It didn’t take much time you for you both to clear up, and you were already heading out of the range and back to your room.

Wandering the halls you saw it was still as lively as it was in the afternoon.  
Every corner you turned you saw new faces and a few that you already know. Barely stopping to talk, but you didn’t ignore any of them.  
They were an incredibly friendly bunch around here.

Finally making it back to the quietest end of the building, you wandered inside, taking your shoes off and placing them neatly to the side and out of the way. Thatcher doing the same just moments later.

“Ya don’t have to stand around and wait for me boyo, you can sit yer arse down on the settee anytime” His words made you realise that you were just standing in the middle of the room, looking lost.

Looking up to the clock on the wall seeing it read 22:32, you wondered how time has passed along so quickly.  
You walked to the sofa and sat down, watching as Thatcher reached into his trouser pocket to grab the keys and lock the door.  
You watched Mike carefully, seeing him put the keys on a hook next to the door, watching him turn to face you and smile at you. Watching him grab the bottom of his olive drab jumper, pulling it over his head and placing it on a chair near by.  
Underneath the jumper he wore an unbuttoned, dark grey polo shirt.

You could see dark black hairs poking through, leaving you to guess that he’s a relatively hirsute man.  
You followed each footstep he made, though you found yourself looking up at him like an idiot as he wandered over to sit down next to you.

“Anything you need, sweet?” He still uses that pet name. It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet, neither were you going out with him, yet. But he still called you that, like he knows that you enjoy it.  
The older man reached behind you, resting his arm across the top of the seat.

“I-I-I’m good thank you Mr Baker” Where did that come from? Formal terms at this time of night? Was it the first time you called him that?

“Mr huh? Mike is fine, don’t worry about formalities around me boy. Hell, call me Thatcher if you must, sometimes our operative names stick better than our real ones.” Smiling down on you, he made you feel safe and warm in his presence.  
Ever so quickly did you feel sleep catching up to you, the sofa being so incredibly comfortable, you felt weightless sat on it.

“Oh...sorry Mike” it was almost natural for you to apologise for everything, and Thatcher noticed that too!

5 more minutes passed in pure silence, the sound of gentle breathing was all you could hear.  
It didn’t take long until you started struggling to keep your eyes open, slowly nodding off in the living room.

Looking over at you, Mike noticed you had passed out. Taking the opportunity, his arm that was stretched behind you came back, and his hand found your head. Slowly stroking your hair, sometimes coming down to brush a finger over your cheek.  
Leaning in to your ear, his beard gently touching, he whispered, “When you’re ready (Y/n)—”  
The older man paused for a moment after he started whispering, making sure he’s not disturbing you. “—I ain’t a bloody idiot, nor am I blind, so when you’re ready, tell me everything. There’s no way you’re keeping it bottled up lad, even if it means I force it all out of you. You’re very sweet, never too soon to say I love ya, no? You’ve been wanting to for a while now already”. A very small chuckle escaped into the room. To finish it off, Mike gently placed his furry lips on your cheek, kissing you carefully, not wanting to wake you just yet.

Your quiet snores were almost unheard, as you snoozed away on the sofa, completely unaware of Thatcher’s proclamation of love to you.  
It was a love at first sight, and you still wanted to take your time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the end note that was me complaining about writing at stupid o’clock appearing at the end of every chapter? Because I keep seeing it.
> 
> Guess what time I started writing this chapter by the way 🙃


	5. Simulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s long-ish

You opened your eyes to a dimly lit room, still sat on the sofa you passed out on. Turning your head to the clock on the wall, reading 12:04, “did I really fall asleep for an hour?” You thought to yourself.  
Despite not being too incredibly busy for your first day, you felt a little exhausted, though you put some of that down to the food you had earlier, it being a while since you’ve filled up properly.

Slowly stirring awake, you feel a warmth on the side of your face.

“Couldn’t make it to bed eh (Y/n)? You look rather comfy if I do say” That serene, hushed voice sent shivers down your spine, how perfect he sounds.

Your eyes focused, and you noticed the comfortable warm ‘pillow’ that you had been resting your head on.  
Feeling it move underneath you, seeing Thatcher’s arm was the mystery source of heat that kept your head warm. You picked yourself up and looked away, feeling shy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up Mike” you felt embarrassed having fallen asleep on the man.

“(Y/n), please...stop apologising for such silly things. You’re more than welcome to use me as a leaning post if you want, who knows, maybe I enjoy it?” Mike sighed heavily which gained your attention. You found Thatcher leaning in a little closer, gazing into your sleepy eyes.

He continued speaking, “Best we get up and into bed, my boy. You look shattered.”  
Mike stood up from the sofa quickly, turning around to gently grasp your forearm, pulling you up from the seat almost like a child who refuses to move. But rather than the expected stern look on any face of a parent who was in that situation, you found his bushy brows lifted slightly, the corners of his lips curled upwards in a hypnotic grin that you could easily get lost in.  
You couldn’t help but smile back when you noticed he had both of your arms held either side of you.

Though he didn’t hold you there long, gently releasing his grip before beckoning you to follow. Walking out of the living room, Thatcher reached over your shoulder to flip the light switch, plummeting the entire place into darkness, moments later feeling a familiar warmth drape over your shoulder. You felt an abnormal tingling inside you, the feeling of being this close in contact with the older man made everything in your mind fade.

Hearing a door ahead of you open, you walked on through, but only with the help of Thatcher as he guided you.

Mike once again flipped another switch, this time you recoiled and covered your eyes, the lights blinding you. It didn’t help that you were conveniently staring up at them before they came on. Silently cursing yourself for stretching your neck at the wrong time.

“Forgot to unpack didn’t we?” You looked at Mike, confused. Why did he say we? It was your job to unpack, and for everything he’s already done for you today, you wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t worry Mike, I can do it myself. I’m not a child” you chided, smirking at the bearded man in front of you.

“I know you’re not a child (Y/n), but I’d like help you. You need a little caring for” Mike was sincere when he said it. His words genuine and meaningful. You felt wanted, and it made you happy.

Reaching in to a suitcase, you pulled out a toiletries bag, and a few items of clothing.

“Through the door on my left is to the bathroom, the wardrobe next to ya is yours” Mike was stood next to his own bed, stroking his beard as he examined you meticulously.

“Thank you” 

Upon entering the bathroom, you were amazed to see the size of it. Consisting of a rather large sink, toilet, a bathtub big enough for about 3 people and a separate shower room.  
You made your way to the sink, placing your bag of toiletries down, picking out your tooth brush and toothpaste, getting to work quick.

A few minutes later, you turn off the light, and return to the bedroom, though you weren’t expected to see it dimly lit by a single bedside lamp.  
Then you saw another thing that you didn’t expect.  
Your gaze fell on to Thatcher, who was stood at your bedside, putting your clothes away for you, shirtless. You could see two small, faint scars on his back, most likely from the missions he undertook here at Rainbow, or maybe even during his days in the SAS.

Then he turned around, showing off his incredible body.  
He was definitely doing this to you on purpose, you were 110% sure he was.  
It was hard for you to describe what his body looked like. He was definitely fit for a 57 year old man. Well toned, yet pudgy still. He didn’t look rock solid but he still looked built. He wasn’t fat at all, but you could bet that if you were to someday snuggle up to him, it would be much comfier than any pillow you could get.

He was for sure a hirsute man. Hair traveled from his chest down to the bottom of his stomach. You couldn’t help but just stare at him in the low light.  
But being so fixated on his upper body, you missed the fact that he was only wearing some boxer shorts. His legs weren’t smooth, nor shaven. They were muscular too, and must have carried him many miles in his lifetime.

“You’re gawking again boy.”  
That snapped you out of your daze instantly, you tried looking away out of embarrassment but there was no point. You were clearly staring at him, and he’d been watching you ever since he turned to face you.

“You know what I said about the next time you did that? I’d have to ask you for consent before I plug the hole” deep and almost erotic, your heart started beating out of your chest.  
Your eyes couldn’t stay averted, and your stare ended up straight on his ‘package’.

Fainting right now seemed like a good idea, but you still managed to stay on your two feet, taking in the sight that is the veterans hidden weapon.

Then it slipped, “you’re teasing me.”  
You confirmed that you wanted it. No denying it, and Thatcher didn’t miss it.

“All in due time sweet. When you’re ready.”  
This time Thatcher proclaimed his interests back to you whilst you’re awake, and you heard it.  
He knows.  
He’s known, ever since the first contact. He saw it in you, but he knows that you want to give it some time, so he’s not initiating it yet.  
Mike knows that you won’t make the first move. He’s aware of your inexperience. He knows you don’t want to fuck it all up.

Baker knew exactly what he was doing, he was helping you warm up to him, he was hands on, gentle and helpful.  
He knew from the very start that you’ve got something troubling you, and that you need help.  
Thatcher knows exactly what you need, what you’ve always wished for.  
He knows that he can’t be just ‘that’, he can be ‘more’, he will be ‘more’.

You felt dumbstruck.  
You weren’t reading him wrong, he was trying to get you to come out to him. From the second you met, he was trying to be that figure in life that you never had.

Though you regained your concentration, you failed to notice that Thatcher had closed the space between the both of you. You found yourself frozen in place, as the bear of a man towered over you, his strong yet soft hands came to grip your shoulders, lightly rubbing circles with his thumbs.

The hirsute man leaned in ever so slowly, his face mere centimetres from yours, your mind was swimming and you were ready to collapse.

“Goodnight, (Y/n). Sweet dreams boyo”  
Fuzzy lips tickled your brow as Mike placed a small kiss on your forehead.  
Your eyes lit up and your heart flourished, finally experiencing your first kiss, kind of.  
You still felt a little scared to reciprocate any of it, but having experienced just a little bit of love for the first time made you hungry for more.

It took everything in you not beg him for more. You wanted to feel everything that he has to offer, but you still felt like it’s too early.  
You slapped yourself mentally, keeping in mind that you had only met less than 24 hours ago. You tried your hardest to keep that in your head.

Thatcher ruffled your hair once more before making his way over to his bed. The light went off and the room went pitch black, you could hear everything. Everything.

Your eyes adjusted as a slither of moonlight creeped through the windows, and all you could hear is Thatcher sliding his boxer shorts off. You can just barely see his outline, and it just interested you even more than you already were.

The sound of Mike’s bed creaking under his weight, covers shifting as he laid down.

You quickly undressed and climbed into your own bed, feeling sleep coming over you quickly once more.

“All of your clothes have been sorted accordingly by the way” Mike’s voice boomed through the quiet room.

“Thank you Mike...goodnight” It came out as a murmur, as you sunk into the bed. The most comfortable bed you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying in.

“It’s quite alright (Y/n). Goodnight sweet.”  
‘Sweet’, he likes calling you that. It made you smile.

———

“What do you mean my account is being temporarily suspended? I called beforehand and explained that there’s no suspicious activity. I confirmed all the purchases! I keep all of my money in this account, and you’re just going to hold it like that?” You’re trying your best to keep your cool, but the assistant wasn’t cooperating.

“Sir, we have reason to suspect that this purchase wasn’t made by you, this is for your account safety” she replied, putting on a visibly fake smile.

“I-just...how?! I. Confirmed. The. Purchase. You’re having me on now. Sorry, excuse my language...how do you fuck up this badly? The whole point of me confirming it is so I don’t get locked out of my current account!” You were enraged now, and getting slightly distraught at the situation you were being placed in.

“I know you’re annoyed, its a difficult process. We believe that it wasn’t the card holder who confirmed the purchase.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly losing faith.  
“So someone managed to get past all of my personal security questions? The purchase in question was from a company called Nengun Performance, correct?” You asked. 

She hesitated, “Yes, correct.”

“It was made with this card to this name?”

“Correct.”

“Then what’s the problem? Do you want my drivers license too?” Pulling out a white/pinkish card.

“That won’t be necessa-” the woman behind the security wall stopped mid sentence. The sound of screaming and gunfire rang out throughout the bank that you were in. Turning around you see people running aimlessly, panicking.

Your eyes widened in horror, seeing bodies fall to the floor, blood painting the tiles red.  
There were about 20 of these men all wielding different weapons, with similar hooded clothing and protective trousers. Each sporting a white mask.  
Is this a gang?  
Some sort of robbery?  
Terrorists?  
They came in, shooting. No questions asked.  
No orders.  
Just cold murder.

But it came to a stop, and they gathered up every one of you.  
Was this it?  
All of you were on your knees. People crying, others screaming. A few looking away, and a couple others just stared them down.  
You didn’t make a sound.  
Just looked them dead in the eye.

You were ready to leave this world, but you weren’t going out without doing something.  
Watching them converse between each other, pointing and making all different gestures you didn’t understand. The tension in the air was dense, and the atmosphere was cold  
But suddenly, most of them left all of you in the room. Just two of the white masks were entrusted with watching over the hostages.

You waited.  
1.  
2.  
3.  
4.  
5.  
NOW!

You jumped up, running to the closest of them. He turned around as he heard your movements. Swinging the handgun around to connect with your head, but he missed.  
“This is why I spent years wasting my time learning how to kick people in the face” You thought to yourself. Feeling cocky, ducking under his attack, you spring up and thrust your knee into his stomach, pushing him back, you gained enough space to wind up for a 360 tornado roundhouse, all the while being mindful of the position of the second terrorist. You made sure that the one you had engaged in hand to hand was directly between you and the other. You can see the terrorist struggling to take the shot, not wanting to shoot his own.

You landed a couple more hits before he got enough distance to pull out his handgun again, but you closed the gap quick enough to land 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 hits, a mix of fists, palms and elbows. All very short and quick movements, hitting his pressure points. This was the opportunity, you grabbed the gun and twisted his arm, bringing an elbow down onto his joint.  
It forced him to let go of the gun, but then you made a fatal mistake, kicking him to the side and leaving you open.  
Bang. The one to the left that you kicked away, dead.  
Bang bang bang.  
Bang.  
The one ahead, dead.  
The room was clear of the terrorists, but you knew that the commotion wouldn’t of gone unheard. One man who was hidden behind a desk hit the alarm, signalling all police in the area to the location. You looked towards the hostages, to realise something was wrong. They looked at you terrified.  
Looking down you see blood, pooling at your feet. No dead bodies close to you, where was it coming from? Upon further inspection, you saw your shirt was slowly changing colour. Your favourite white shirt with the blue print on the front, ruined. The colour slowly turning red, three holes ripped through it.  
Then it dawned on you. You’ve been shot 3 times. How are you still standing? That’s all you thought in that second. The adrenaline kicked in ages ago, and you’re still standing, you don’t feel anything yet. The realisation just that second made you decide your next action.

Looking towards the worried hostages in front of you, you couldn’t help but say, “Not to sound Hollywood, but it’s my time I guess...” You called it, this was the day you die.  
You said you wont go down without fighting.  
The sound of heavy footsteps rushing back to the room you were all held, so you decided to move yourself to them. You don’t want the others to get caught in the crossfire.

*Cough* now you felt it. The dull pain in your stomach, slowing intensifying. The taste of iron in your mouth became stronger and you felt physically sick. Blood slowly trickling from the corners of your lips.  
But you must continue on. This is your purpose.

Staring at the gun in your hand, it was familiar. A Beretta M92F. You never fired a real gun before, but it felt exactly the same as your old airsoft M92F. Thinking back to those days with your friends, they were good, some of the most fun you ever had, spending hours on the weekends with your mates and people you’ve never met before. The closest thing you could ever get to a handgun in the UK.  
The weight was just like your imitation you had, the grip was no different, the iron sights you were already accustomed to. The only thing that felt different now was the recoil.  
But it was easy to get a feel for.

Then you opened the door to the bright hallways, their hurried footsteps fast approaching. The lights almost blinding. Squinting, you tried adjusting quickly, you were going to do something today.  
You will die fighting a hero.

———

Your eyes shot open, breathing heavy. Sunlight filled the room and a warmth covered your stomach. Were you bleeding? You’re still alive? Looking around confused, you realised the warmth traveled up to your chest.  
Was it a dream?  
No.  
A nightmare?  
Not that either.  
A memory?  
It was so vivid in your mind.

But you were shortly reminded of where you were when a deep voice called out.  
“You’ll be okay (Y/n), I’m here...I’m here” the source of the heat being Thatcher’s hand as he rubbed your body up and down to comfort you.

“Bad dream eh?” He asked.

You just stared at him with a sullen look.  
“No...it’s a bad memory.”

“I can take a guess at which. I’m sorry sweet, you’re safe here” his words of comfort helped calm you down, as you slowly regained control of your breathing.

What does he mean that he can take a guess at which memory it was? You haven’t told him what happened that day.

Looking over to the man you saw him laid back next to you in your bed. How long had he been on your bed for?  
Wearing a dark blue gown, draped over him loosely.

“I’ve been here for roughly an hour” Thatcher piped up.  
You say it to yourself over and over, how does he know what you’re thinking?

“I didn’t wake you up did I? I’m sorry if I did.”  
You still can’t break the habit of apologising for everything.

“No, you didn’t wake me up. But it wouldn’t have been any worry at all if you did.”  
Why is he so sweet? He’s just perfect.

“It’s 8:26 by the way (Y/n). I’d let ya sleep a little longer, but I am rather excited to get you in the simulation, because I know we will make a great team.”  
The talk of this simulation has you interested. What kind of technology do they have here? It’s got to be extremely advanced right? If the best of the best use a simulation to train, then surely it’s got to be something beyond incredible.

“How about 5 more minutes in bed...you can lean on me if you want” The older man’s large hand began wandering up and down your body again, the motion was soothing.  
Mike looked over to you with a wide smile on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile back as you felt his fingers curl around your waist, a strong force pulling you in until you were touching.  
Giving in almost, you leant your head against the older man’s arm, feeling contempt in the current position.

Thatcher’s hand wandered downwards, finding its way to your hip, and slowly creeped down to your thighs. Remembering that you’re completely naked under the covers, you tensed up.

“Got quite a bit of insulation’s eh?” Commenting on your relatively hairy legs, something you both have in common.

“Thanks, I inherited them from my cunt of a so called dad” you replied, half jokingly as to not sound blunt and rude.

Mike could feel you freeze under his touch, “Don’t ya worry. There ain’t no willy touching yet boy, not without your consent.” Yet.  
That’s another word stuck in your head, and it made your uncovered member twitch. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it if he did give it some attention. His reply did make you snicker though, and then you let out a snort shortly afterwards, which sent the both of you into a small laughing fit.

He was an expert at this. Calming down soon after, relaxing once again at the touch, as he gently squeezed your thigh between rubs.

5 minutes passed quickly, as you lay awake in bed resting against the studly operator. The hairs on his arm tickling you as he gently caressed your thigh.

“Right sweet cheeks, up with ya” the gruff voice cooed out to you.  
Thatcher brought his hand up and stroked your head, carefully bringing gentle fingers down to caress your cheek.

“M-Mike...I’m not wearing anything you know” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, stammering on a few words as you began to feel nervous.

“I’m not wearing anything either” replied the veteran.  
Looking at him in disbelief at what he said, grabbing hold of his soft robe.  
“The fuck is this then?” Laughing at the older man who was laid beside you.

“You’re wearing something!”

Taking that as a cue, Thatcher got off of your bed and stood up, grabbing the loose belt that held the gown together?

“Am I?” With a quick and simple tug, the belt came loose and his gown opened up, revealing everything, letting the gown slowly slide off of his body.

This time you knew you were gawking. It was an absolutely magnificent sight to behold! But of course your eyes fell on one thing. That once mysterious bulge.  
His man meat was thick and uncut. Much bigger than average, and he was only soft! It amazed you how a man can confidently strip himself balls naked in front of a so called stranger.  
Though in all fairness, it did give you confidence to get up and out.  
So you did.

Mike stared at you in delight, green eyes wide and an infectious smirk graced his lips.

“You’re a gorgeous boy (Y/n), you have nothing to be embarrassed about” the compliment alone made you twitch, excitedly. But you didn’t know how to respond, but Thatcher could see your appreciation, and you flushed red cheeks.

In comparison to Thatcher, you were small.  
He was bigger in every way.  
Broader.  
Musclier.  
Hairier.  
Manlier.  
He was perfect to you.

But the gazing came to a stop suddenly, as you could hear banging coming from the front door, followed by a thick German accent.

“Mike! (Y/n)?! Are you awake? Would you like to join us in the dining hall for breakfast? Erik and Adriano have cooked up a buffet!” Dominic was a loud one when he wants to be. If anyone was still sleeping, they won’t be now.

“What do ya say sweet? I guess it saves me cooking this morning, as much as I would have loved to.” Thatcher left it up to you to decide, of course he did.

Feeling pressured from being put on the spot, you simply replied back, “It should be up to you Mike.”  
Reaching into your wardrobe, pulling out some clothes, sliding some boxer shorts on.

“We will be there in 10 minutes Brunsmeier!” He shouted back. It sent chills throughout your entire body, so powerful and commanding.

For the next few minutes, you both dressed, soon entering the bathroom together.  
Taking a few more minute brushing your teeth together and quickly scrubbing your face clean with a flannel. Then both of you had the urge to use the toilet, but instead of arguing who goes first like you always would with your mates, you instead stepped outside and waited. For some reason, this put a goofy smile on your face, as it reminded you of simpler times, though now that you think of it, it saddens you to know that you’ve left your friends behind for what is essentially a new life.

Then the knocking started again.  
“Are you going to be any longer?”  
Bandit didn’t want to wait around, growing impatient by the second.

But you and Mike were both already at the door ready to leave. Mike very carefully unlocked the door, only to rip the door open and almost shout at the German.  
“Keep fookin’ quiet its not even 9 o’clock yet!”

Safe to say that Bandit would definitely think twice before shouting the dormitories down. He scrambled to the wall in sudden shock.  
Mike however just laughed at the German man, who now just looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Taking a second to regain his composure, Dom politely asked the two of you to follow him.  
Thatcher made sure he had locked the door before setting off, only to question the German moments later.  
“What gives Brunsmeier? You don’t usually do things like this” implying that something was up, you didn’t have a clue what to expect.

“I just thought we’d bring you along and get the new guy introduced to a few more of us, y’know, considering (Y/n) works with us now Mr Baker...” The German kept dribbling on and on, clearly trying to play something off.

But it was relatively apparent as you entered the dining hall to see a few colourful decorations littered about and a sign that says welcome followed by your name. They went out of their way to welcome you in.  
But why?

Did they do this for everyone? You hoped they did because getting extra treatment was just...weird. You didn’t feel like you deserved any extra treatment.  
But you weren’t going to mope about and look glum. You appreciated the work that they all went through to do this for you. But why would they hide it from you, terribly...by sending Bandit?

“They could have sent anyone but Brunsmeier to hide it” Thatcher whispered.

The room was filled, and although you were yet to meet everyone, you were pretty sure that every current operative was here!  
The sounds of tamed cheering and welcoming was accepted and received well! Everyone was kind and talkative.

“Welcome aboard, boyo...here’s to the first ever!” Mike whispered in your ear again, his hand coming to rest on your back.

You were taken aback at the welcoming, “I-I-I...I think this is wonderful really, I appreciate everything from the bottom of my heart, but...do you do this for everyone? I hope you do, I don’t really want any sort of special treatment y’know” this came out of your lips this time, and a few others heard it, but they didn’t mind. Your honesty was pure at times, and people can tell.  
But again, it was like Thatcher had the answers you seek.

“We usually have a small welcoming for new operatives here, but (Y/n)...you know you’re a hero in the eyes of the public right? We aren’t just celebrating your arrival sweet, we’re also celebrating your actions that got you here!” Thatcher’s careful reminder of the day you survived helped you smile. You don’t remember much of it, did everyone survive? If you’re a hero to the public, then you must have done something right.

Then a voice shouted out to the both of you, “(Y/n)! Mike! Come on over here and grab some food! Erik and I prepared this especially.” It was reminiscent of the man who was at the gates when you arrived. His distinct Italian accent laced his perfect English.

With pleasure you both accepted the Italians offer, making your way over the man together. Bandit up and left the both of you after fulfilling his irritating duties, returning to Jäger who was hidden in the crowd.

Then things got a little crowded. Everyone came over to introduce themselves, it was like organised chaos.  
But it didn’t take long until you leant their names and became acquainted. Though there was one, she didn’t give her name, but that’s supposedly because it’s to protect her identity. She goes by her operator name, Nøkk. She was pleasant and sweet, but the vibe she gave off meant no fucking about.

Then there was Taina, prefers to go by her operator name, Caveira, which you learnt meant skull in Portuguese.  
An equally spooky name for a suspicious and spooky woman. Even when she was being what everyone else considered friendly, it left you feeling unsettled.  
You wouldn’t ever want to get on her bad side.

“I’ll be back soon kid, get yerself comfortable with Adriano. I won’t be long.” You felt Mike’s hand slowly slide from your hip to your waist, giving a small squeeze before walking off into the crowd.  
Completely unaware that Adriano was watching him closely, smirking at the little contact he made with you.  
Coming to think of it, you don’t remember feeling him put his hand there. How long had he been doing that? Did everyone see?

“Settling in well (Y/n)?” Your attention snapped on to the GIS operator in front of you, and my was he a handsome man as well! But the one thing you found interesting at this moment was the scar that came across the top left of his lip, leaving a visible patch of skin in his thick beard. Your mind pondered for what felt like hours, thinking what could have given him that scar.

It took you a few seconds to reply, busy staring at the marked skin.  
“Oh, yeah so far doing well I think.”  
Almost stumbling to get the words out, playing it off that you weren’t spacing out.

“Adriano ‘Maestro’ Martello, call me what you wish though, I answer to all” the man offered his hand out to you which you took gracefully. He has a strong grip that could crush a snooker ball into dust. You made a mental note not to annoy him to the point that he comes to choke you.

“(Y/n), but I think you already know that” you replied softly, smiling at the Italian.

“About your offer yesterday. Still down for it later?”  
For a second you almost forgot the offer, but now vividly remember your exchange with him when you arrived.

“Yeah sure! Any excuse to take my mind off of things will be good.” Maybe you should have said any excuse to drive, opening your self up to questions.

“Good good. Well, get yourself some food down you soldier!” Luckily Adriano didn’t press in to your comment, but placed a hand on your back to pull you over to the side where the plates and assorted foods were sat.

People gathered around, helping themselves to the food on offer.  
It looked impeccable!  
Grabbing a plate and cutlery for yourself, you picked a few things from the selection and turned around to see Marius stood with his own plate full of food.

“(Y/n), care to join us mein freunde?” You couldn’t really refuse it, seeing as Mike had wandered off elsewhere, and Jäger was one of the others that you knew a little better than the others here.

Following the German through the room to a table that welcomed a few more faces, you took a seat and began the introductions again.

This is when you learn that there’s another German, who if anything, can be just as immature as the other two. Of course, they then tell you that there’s one more, but surprisingly, she is mature. 

“Sometimes, because it annoys her, we all call her mum.” This came from the youngest of them, Elias.

Bandit then decided he’d pipe in with what sounds to be relatively shit reasoning, “It’s funny because she gets extra moody with Marius and me, because we are older than her you see.”

Learning that Dominic is 44 shocked you. From everyone you’ve met so far, he acted so childish. But he makes life fun and bearable, so you couldn’t exactly complain.

“See, one time, Dom cut his finger, so he ran all the way to Monika who was trying to have some private time in her dorm...and well Dom burst in and all we could hear him shout was ‘Mum I got a booboo can you kiss it better?’ And I could have sworn Monika flew at him feet first, because I heard a lot of things hitting the floor and pounding, as well as a bit of screaming from Dom”  
Marius’ story seemed innocent enough and believable, but he left himself open to Blitz’s quick thinking immature mind.

“You sure they weren't just fucking or some scheiße?” Operative Kötz looked to the both of them with a stupid grin on his face.  
Though their expressions quickly became blank when a deep British accent rung out over them.

“I highly doubt Brunsmeier got it on with Miss Weiss...I’m pretty convinced that Streicher and Brunsmeier like to get together and have a quick shag when you’re not around Kötz.” Your heart warmed when you saw the man in question.

Looking to Bandit and Jäger saw them both looking flustered and embarrassed, looking away from each other.

“I really don’t care if you two do, just make sure you’ve changed the bed sheets” Blitz laughed at the older specialists comment, also noticing his two brothers in arms trying to hide their expressions.

Then Yumiko opened her mouth. She’s relatively quiet, but very pleasant to be around.  
She put her index finger and thumb together making a small circle, and with her other hand started putting her index finger in the circle, and asked the question. “So which one likes to receive it?” That was it for you, choking on your food and struggling not to fall out of your chair in laughter.

Mike struggled to keep a straight face and Elias was absolutely howling. Bandit and Jäger couldn’t stop snickering and another new face who you met today was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. The last operative on the table was Meghan “Valkryie” Castellano. She looked serious all the time, but was probably one of the most laid back in Rainbow.

In the short time that you all spent giggling and struggling to keep together, you didn’t notice a mug was placed down in front of you. That was until Mike squeezes your shoulder and points it out to you.  
“I hope it’s how you like it boyo”  
You saw the man nursing his own cup of coffee, taking sips every so often.

You liked coffee, never been fond of tea. But it’s something you’ve always been extra fussy about. Has to have the right amount of milk if theres any. Have to be an almost perfect measurement of sugar, not too sweet, but not too bitter.  
Then there’s the coffee itself. You weren’t as picky when it came to brands, but you had a few clear favourites.

Picking up the mug with both hands, and taking a sip, your eyes widened in disbelief. It was perfect.  
You screamed in your own head, “how the fuck does he know exactly how I like my coffee? He knows everything? Did I talk in my sleep? Or maybe when you blanked out once. Does he have access to your personal records and paperwork that you sent in after your second meeting with Harry? Maybe he spied on me?” It would explain the coincidence of the both of you also meeting first on the motorway. But it was all just in fact coincidence.  
Everything between the two of you were coincidence and pure luck.

Thatcher told you this morning that he’s very interested in you. He knows that you ‘like’ him, a lot. He understands what’s going on in your head, and he knows you’re not ready to start anything between the two of you.  
He finds it admirable that you’re holding off, even though you fell in love with him the second you laid eyes on him.  
He felt the same, yet he really wouldn’t of minded if you admitted your feelings to him immediately.  
It was the same time he felt it, that smile that you gave him in the traffic jam opened something inside him.

That simple act of kindness is usually overlooked in the world today. Going for the both of you that day, everyone you saw looked miserable and disconnected. Both of you had been smiling at passers by, in hopes of making someone’s day a little better. But both of you got the same reactions from almost everyone, everywhere. Disgruntled faces glared blank stares back, wanting you to avert your eyes and forget them.  
So when you both made that eye contact, sitting tense in your idle cars, both momentarily sharing a mutual connection as you both sensed the discomfort you were both in, that little facial expression lifted the mood. Your forced grin that turned into the most genuine smile when the man smiled back and winked left you feeling butterflies for what felt like eternity.

Mike at that very moment wanted to see that smile again, knowing he made someone’s day much more bearable. It was a feeling Mike hadn’t experienced in years. Love at first sight.  
You both felt it then and there, and you felt lost as the flow of traffic picked up and you pulled away.

But here you are, wondering why you always overthink everything, and when you do, it usually ends badly. That plays on your mind constantly, that everything in your life usually ends up as bad as it can. It worried you.  
Now you started overthinking what you just thought. Confusing right?  
This is how complicated you make it for yourself. All of this over the best coffee you’ve ever had.

But you didn’t want to bring up anything personal around anyone, in fear that you’ll be called an attention seeker, or a child, or maybe just something like a pussy.  
You had a lot on your mind, you’ve lost a lot in your time and you’re yet to live your life.

The chatter at the table quietened down soon, and everyone finished up their breakfast.

“Thank you Mike, how’d you know how I like my coffee?” You asked.

“Lucky guess” Specialist Baker’s response didn’t come out with uncertainty, but with a look of confidence and yet another wink.

By this point in time you were sure that superpowers existed outside of Hollywood films and childhood dreams.

“Well, once you’re all finished up, we need to get (Y/n) into the simulation! Get him up to speed with how we work around here. You’ll need to know how most of us work.” The older man spoke, up also hoping some others around would like to join in on it, and he was lucky to find the entire table wanted to help, and a few others to balance it out.

Finally, you all cleaned up and gathered around at the doors to the dining hall. Ten of you in total, you all followed Thatcher to the simulation training room.  
It was big, and rather dark. Along a wall in one of the side rooms you can see a massive array of weapons, though they were all painted with a bright coloured stripe across them.  
At the end of the room was a multi-screen display, which you guess would be used by someone supervising to watch over every operatives progress during the ongoing matches.

There were 10 simulation ‘stations’, five on each side of the room. It had some sort of multidirectional mechanical treadmill which I guess you walk on to move yourself about. There were what looked to be incredibly high end VR headsets and a few plug sockets for what would be the gear you use.

Then you were pulled into the side room that you once glanced into.

“So, everyone here bar (Y/n) knows how this works here. Let me explain.  
Every weapon we use in our real missions are replicated and those replications are here. Obviously these aren’t real firearms, the colourful stripes are to remind the idiots that they don’t fire live ammunition” the entire room giggled as Mike looked towards Jäger at the last part of the sentence.

“Every gun comes as standard, we have many attachment options that you can put on easily, which the simulation will map in when you connect them. Next is the suits. You will look ridiculous in them, but no one really cares unless you’re Monika who cries about her hair if the wind even slightly blows it slightly out of place” the giggling began again, because it was somewhat true according to many of the operators here. You’re yet to fully meet her, but from what you’ve been told, she is mad about her hair.

“These suits may feel a tad uncomfortable, as you can see they have wires and metal rods throughout them. What they do is track every single movement you make so to translate to your simulated person. You will feel everything. Every time you’re shot, stabbed, punched, kicked...everything. Though it definitely doesn’t hurt anywhere near as it would in real life. The suits have Impact Detection and Recognition Software built in, and that sends either small shocks to certain parts of the body, or creates some sort of pressure on a certain area. In the simulation you have health. Think of it like a video game if you will! Sometimes you’ll will straight up die and if that happens, you’ll end up in spectator mode. If you end up in the down but not out phase, the mechanical rods in the suit will lock in certain places. Please don’t ask how it works as technology confuses me greatly at times. But you will end up on the floor, only able to crawl out the way before you’re either picked up or bleed out. The headsets, you wouldn’t even know you’re wearing them, and everything will look exactly as it does in real life. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Everyone you see will be recognisable by their faces and their respective clothing and armour from their CTU. (Y/n) you were mapped in by Harry when you were in your coma, so that’s a bonus for you.  
One more thing, you will hear everyone talk if you’re close enough. Though the teams have the ability to speak to their friendlies by using their radios, which you’ll activate by using a specific button on the headsets. I think I’ve also explained enough here, so without further ado, we shall gear up and get ready.” Mike finally finished his essay on how shit works, taking in everything he said. “It’s a surprise old man Baker can talk so much about the simulation specifics, considering he doesn’t like technology that much.” Yumiko blurted out this time. “Technology is frightening on the battlefield, but it has too many drawbacks. I prefer to go things the traditional way out in the field. I don’t entirely hate it, more rather the people who rely on it completely” Mike’s response was relatively shocking to everyone in the room.

But you were thinking about something else.  
How did he know that you were in a coma though?  
Was Six that confident that you’d accept his offer?

Now was the fun part. Everyone got their specialised suits and got themselves in them, you on the other hand had no clue what size you’d look for.  
You couldn’t remember the last time you measured yourself in all honesty.

Looking through you found one that seemed to be the right size, that was until Mike came up with one that was just slightly smaller.  
“Here, try this one on for size. It should hug ya tight. The material is very flexible, easy to wear other casual clothes”

“Thanks...though I don’t know what it’s like to be hugged” you barely whispered the last part out in hopes that your rather sad confession isn’t heard.  
Yet Thatcher is good at reading lips. He frowns slightly learning that, feeling sorry for you, but doesn’t let his concern known yet.

Moments later and everyone was ready in their gear. It felt odd with all these metal rods on it, but you got used to the feeling of it relatively quickly and soon enough it was unnoticeable.  
Now came the weapons.

“Right, weapons are simple. Attachments have electro-magnetic connectors and receivers. This is how the simulation can distinguish each attachment on your firearm. Again, I wouldn’t have a clue as to how it works. To synchronise your firearms as well as gear and suit, you use these wireless plug in chips. We always tell people to leave the connectors in the suit pockets. They work both ways so it won’t matter which one is plugged where.” Thatcher is pointing to the left sleeve of his outfit, where there’s a distinct socket for said wireless plug.

He picked up an L85A2 and pointed to the underside of the stock.  
“Now it’ll be different depending on what gun you have, but you should find it with ease, as the connectors are attached to the guns” you could see the plug dangling from what looks like some string, and a box next to each weapon with their corresponding plug ins.

Thatcher looked up at everyone, a small glint in his eye, “Get to it lads and ladies!”

Making your way out with your equipment, Bandit flipped a switch which powered on the entire system.  
You all set yourselves up, putting your headsets on and immersing yourselves into the simulation.


	6. The shadow in the light

Everyone was stood in their place. The system was online and everything was synchronised in.  
You were all in some sort of lobby, waiting around. You could see everyone in their gear. Then you were made curious. “What would I be wearing?”  
Looking around, everyone here came from a CTU. Thatcher was SAS, you could tell who he was from his outfit. Dark navy fatigues and a modified leather pig-skin vest. An SF10 gas mask as well as his Union Jack patches. Then the obvious one being the emblem for the SAS and it’s slogan emblazoned on the sleeves.

You saw Blitz, Bandit and Jäger all wearing theirs, Polizei plastered across their backs.  
Everyone had uniforms.  
What would you be wearing?  
Pyjamas?  
Lonsdale Tracksuit?  
A suit and tie maybe?  
But then you remembered that you could just look down at yourself.  
“I hope I’m not naked, that’d be embarrassing.”

Instead, you found yourself wearing relatively flexible tactical gear. Dark Blue/Navy colour. You could see a Union Jack on your sleeve but nothing much else, except a 6. The 6 was in the style of Team Rainbow’s Logo.  
Written underneath was Close Quarters Expert and Specialist.  
Is this your own? It was extremely similar to that of the SAS’s attire.

It seemed to fit you perfectly. But you’re yet to try it out for real, remembering that you’re in Virtual Reality.

Then you hear a voice calling out for everyone to gather around.

“Okay everyone gather. Pre training safety check. Everyone connected no issues?” That voice you couldn’t quite put a name to, but the accent was distinctly Russian.  
Everyone checked their weapons, equipment and voice comms.

Doing the same, pulling out your grenades, L85A2 and M92FS, double checking that you’re clear and everything is in working order.

Collectively everyone replied shortly afterwards.  
A mixture of words confirming that they’re ready.  
You felt something squeeze your shoulder, it was ever so familiar, you look behind you to see Thatcher stood mere inches away, his hand resting on you.  
“Wow”  
That was all you could think. It felt so incredibly real, it’s already so lifelike, you could easily get lost in the training and become confused between reality and simulation.  
The sound too, it wasn’t like what you’d expect. It was so crisp and clear that it’s like you aren’t wearing headphones. The picture was perfect. No edges, no weird effects. It was surreal.

Then of course you see Bandit and Jäger, stood somewhat away from everyone, slapping each other with their guns, laughing.  
For the little time you’ve known them, you already came to expect it. Then a bang.  
Jäger shot Bandit in the foot.  
Luckily in the pre training lobby your health isn’t accounted for, but you can feel it.

“Dummkopf! Warum würdest du das tun?” (Idiot! Why would you do that?) shouted Dom.

Then as blankly and quickly as he probably could, Jäger simply replied, “Lustig” (Funny).

Bang.  
“Wie gefällt dir das, Marius?” (How do you like that, Marius?).  
Now Bandit shot ‘specialist’ Streicher in the foot.

“Ich werde dich in den Schwanz schießen Dominic...dann wirst du keinen Sex mit Monika haben können! (I will shoot you in the dick Dominic...then you won’t be able to have sex with Monika!) Jäger was honestly unpredictable at this point, but it was Bandit’s reply that caught you out, as well as everyone else.

“Du bist derjenige, der darunter leiden wird, du Spastiker.” (You’re the one who will suffer, you spastic).

Chuckles were heard here and there as the two Germans bickered between the two.  
“Haha, Schwule” (Gay) was all that was heard after the idiots calmed down. Elias then got a death stare from the other two Germans after his jokey comment.

You just stood their in disbelief, almost uncertain as to how those two made it here.  
Saying that, it was mystery how you got offered a place here, but then there were those two. A completely different breed.

“You’d find it hard to imagine that this happens almost every time during the equipment check period of training. Like I said the other day (Y/n), I feel like I’m their dad, and that they’re just overgrown children with guns. Makes me question whether Team Rainbow is a CTU or just a daycare” You can tell that Thatcher no longer gave a shit, he’s seen this happen too many times between the two and has given up on taking this seriously.

Then of course another comment slipped from your mouth, “Maybe you should be my dad.” It was something that pained you to say.  
You covered your mouth though, realising that you shouldn’t have said that.  
But you got an answer that you didn’t expect.

“I’d like that...maybe I can be just a little more than your ‘dad’.” Mike really emphasised on the word dad. It left you speechless, unable to move.

“Is he being serious right now?” Was all you could think for the time being.

But your attention is slowly diverted, and now is the time find out what team you’ll be put on for the rest of your career here.

Defenders: Kapkan, Caveira, Bandit, Jäger, Valkyrie.

This put you on the attacking team, of course.  
Coincidence again?

Attackers: Hibana, Thatcher, Blitz, Recruit (STC), Twitch.

Caveira. She’s that spooky one who makes you feel unsettled. Trying to take a guess at which one she was isn’t too challenging. Her face was painted with a skull on it. Nightmare fuel if anything. From now on you referred to her as spook, or spooky.

“10 seconds to simulation” That was a new voice. Turns out it was the announcer.

Right in front of you you saw the 5 defenders disappear from sight, almost like they dissolved into thin air.  
Then some sort of screen appeared in front of you.  
“Situation: Bomb”  
“Location: Northern Italy. Map: Villa”  
“Spawn selection”. You could see where everyone else chose to start, noticing them also disappear from sight. Of course you chose the same spot as Thatcher. Considering he’s the one who’s supposed to be mentoring you, may as well go with him.

Both you and the older operative chose the ruins to start at, Twitch, Hibana and Blitz took to the fountain.  
“It really is like a video game...that’s mad” thinking to yourself.

As you confirmed your spawn point, you saw the scenery change right in front of you. Mike was stood to your left, giving you a small wave.  
Naturally you walked over to him, staring at the view around you. It was breathtaking and so incredibly realistic.

Once again you get caught off guard by the capabilities of these suits. Feeling an arm come to rest over your shoulder.  
“Ready for this boy? You’ll do well, just stay near me” That West Country drawl was infectious. His relaxing yet stern voice drilled into your head, you’ll listen to him no matter.

Then that announcer came through again. “You have 45 seconds to locate the bombs”

“You’ll find these are a piece of piss to use” pulling out some sort of drone and tossing it down before whipping out what looked like a phone to control it.  
You found yours and threw it out towards the building, pulling out your ‘phone’ and got on to control it. It was easy!

“(Y/n), you can switch camera feeds between drones to help gain intel when you need it. Best thing to do is look out for where we position ours, and find another spot. Try to cover as many angles as possible” taking this information in and holding on to it was easy enough.

“Your team has found a bomb”  
This place was huge, and beautiful. “I really wouldn’t mind living here” you said, almost too distracted by the decorations.

Then you heard another voice over the radio.  
“They’re in the games room. Drone 2nd floor south side. They got my shock drone before I could spot the second bomb. I took 2 of Kapkan’s EDD’s with me and one of Bandit’s batteries” A small twang of French accent was heard, the voice belonging to none other than Twitch.

It wasn’t long until the second bomb was found, and the announcer was practically shouting that there were 5 seconds left to the preparation phase.

“You must defuse the bombs, proceed with caution”. That was it for preparation, it was time to go.  
You focused your mind on the mission at hand, a single song played throughout your head. Music always helped you concentrate.

Following shortly behind the SAS operative ahead, you came to a window. All it took was a few bashes with the butt of his gun and you were in, jumping through the debris. It felt surreal, how it all worked was a wonder, the way it simulated touch was incredibly accurate. You found yourself pressed against a wall momentarily, and it was like something in real life was in front of you, stopping you from moving through it.

The sound of automatic fire was heard from the other side of the Villa, which Thatcher identified as Twitch’s F2 AR. She was already finding trouble this early on. Sadly, she found the trouble to be Caveira, who managed to outgun her, knocking her into DBNO.

“Guys I’ve made a fuck up, sorry. Caveira is on me, Master Bedroom!” You heard her apologise before hearing the Brazilian woman cut in, “Talk, desgraçado!”

“That always tickles more than I like to admit it does” giggles the French woman, who was now ‘dead’. 

“Yes that’s great to know Emmanuelle, can you maybe watch the drones?” A German voice came through on the comms.

A hand tapped your shoulder trying to get your attention, “Go ahead and to the right into the office. Caveira knows where we are. I’ll be right behind ya” and with that instruction, you left the cover and bolted for the room. Mike right on your tail watching out.

Entering in the room you found Jäger hiding behind a desk. He pulled his gun on you and opened fire, but you managed to get to cover behind a wall. Thatcher entered the room and dipped left behind a bookcase.  
You listened to Jäger fire round after round from his 416-C. Counting every shot.  
...  
...  
...  
...  
He’s reloading.  
Pushing fast and leaning to the left you peek the corner with your M92Fs.

Bang.

The bullet hit his shoulder, forcing him to make a run for the door for better cover, but that’s all it took for Thatcher to finish him off with his angle.

Bang.

“Aww scheiße” was all you heard the German groan out.  
A single bullet to the head and Jäger was out for the remainder of the session. Watching the cameras trying to give intel to the rest of his team.

“The bomb is directly above us, but the shortest route will be the most dangerous. I’m going to drop an EMP here below, to take out some of their equipment above. Push out to the living room, I’ll be there.”  
You watched as expert hands fiddled with a small grenade looking device, twisting the top, watching it light up blue.  
But you didn’t wait around to spectate it in action, moving into the living room.

“Lights out!”

You heard something go off, and then the area around all went dark.

Thatcher soon joined you in the room. You both planned out the best route to take from here, but you were rudely interrupted as an explosion from underneath rocked you, and you soon found yourself falling to the ground below.  
Turns out you were stood on top of a hatch, and Caveira blew it from underneath with her impact grenade.

In the dust and confusion of the situation, Thatcher almost missed you disappearing into the basement level of the Villa.  
The explosion caught the veteran off guard too, not expecting it to come from below.  
How Caveira knew wasn’t much longer a secret. A small black orb sat in the corner of the room, a little blue ring glowed as to show that someone is watching it.  
At a guess, Jäger must have assisted using Valkyrie’s camera, telling Caveira of your position.  
Swiftly pulling out his P226, Mike shot the camera out to deny them any more intel from that location.

You landed pretty badly, knocking the wind out of you. Then you saw a figure running at you, and then knees on your stomach. Looking up you saw that black and white skull face paint.  
You snapped to her hand that had her knife in.  
“Where are they?” She asked.  
You won’t go down now. You know how to handle yourself in these situations.

You saw a drone watching you, and a voice on your team radio.  
“Shit, (Y/n) too? Thatcher, where are you?” That voice belonged to Hibana, she was watching.

“I can’t take the shot, I can’t see them!” He replied, looking down the hatch, the dust still hasn’t settled.

Her knife came towards you but you caught it, pushing her hand away and sliding a leg up, able to lift her off and kick her away.

Both of your guns were on the floor, and Caveira pulled hers out. All you could think about was that the lighting was terrible down here, but you could use that to your advantage. Noticing that in the small confusion you had rolled away and into complete darkness.  
You dipped right and towards her, emerging from the shadows, jumping out and connecting a quick stance switching front snap kick to her hand, making her drop the firearm. This became a fist fight from now.

She pounced for you, which you dodged with ease. Every swing she took you read. Side step, back step, mimicking every step she took and ducking everything, waiting to strike.

“I have a visual but she’s too quick and (Y/n)’s too close, I can’t risk hitting him.”  
Mike’s voice echoed out on the comms. It gave you some reassurance that if it goes wrong, he’s there.

It was almost effortless for you, the way you simply avoided every one of her attacks. But you couldn’t find a break. There wasn’t enough time to reach for your gun and shoot.  
Slowly you realised that with each step you were nearing a desk. If you get too close you’ll get pinned.  
Noticing she has a knife in one hand, you upped your train of thought, making sure to keep an eye on that hand, you don’t want to feel that poking you.

Your feet were gliding along, still mimicking every move as to keep yourself distanced easily.  
But that desk got closer and closer. You had to hope that you’ll end in the right position to finish this.

1 step,  
2 steps,  
3,  
4,  
5,  
6, inwards desk, side on, inwards, facing inwards again after that dodge. The next attack forced you to turn 180 degrees as you sidestepped.

Turn again.  
90 degrees right.  
Forwards, looking to the desk, you’re getting very close. Back to the desk. Perfect. Her fist came around in a right hook, ducking under it and pivoting once more 180 degrees, facing to the desk, springing up and placing a foot on the edge to then launch yourself off of it, tucking your shoulders in and bringing your arms in to allow a quicker rotation in the air, you spin 540 degrees clockwise and connect an extremely heavy left foot to her head. Knocking her way off to the side and away from you.

Landing effortlessly, you ran to your gun on the floor. Diving and grasping it, you slid and flipped yourself over, aiming down the sights. Breathe in.

*Bang*

A single bullet to the head took Caveira out for the rest of the simulation.

“Guys, I got that spook bitch lady” you said, a little out of breath but still in relatively good shape.

“Good work (Y/n), that patch doesn’t tell a lie” Mike’s comment left you feeling good, and made you look to the sleeve. ‘Close Quarters Expert and Specialist’, seems about right for the amount of years you spent training for a stupid black coloured belt.  
All of those years, it was a distraction from the life you wished you never had. It kept you out of trouble and taught you how to protect yourself from the cruel world and the nasty inhabitants.

“That’s a new name for her if I haven’t heard it yet. Just don’t say it in front of her otherwise you’ll have her actual knife in your back” Hibana was giggling at the comment. Though you took the advice literally, as Taina seems like the kind of woman who’d murder you if you looked at her ever so slightly oddly.

You picked yourself up fully, picking up your handgun that had slid to the other side of the hallway. A flicker of red caught your eye, a security camera.

*beep beep beep beep* 

Your eyes locked on to some sort of device, that was thrown down the stairs towards you, then that’s when you realised it was an explosive device. Your split second decision to jump out the way towards the pillar saved you from what would of been yet another possible early exit.  
Though the blast caught you somewhat, knocking some of your health down, your vision was slightly blurred and your hearing had gone almost, but it was already coming back slowly.  
You got thrown into the brick pillar by the force of the nitro cell.

“I’m good I’m good, don’t worry” you reassured your teammates.

“I found him (Y/n), Kapkan. He’s about to sit down” The voice that replied was Blitz. All of a sudden the stairway lit up in blinding lights, and 5 shots followed from his P12. You heard Kapkan curse on Blitz comms.

“блять” (fuck).

“Sorry Maxim, don’t hate me for it.” Apologised the shield wielding German.

“Right, everyone regroup on me, living room first floor” Mike ordered the rest of us to meet up before proceeding. You followed Blitz up the stairs. Coming to the door he lowered his shield, though that was a mistake he’s going to regret.  
He managed to find one of Kapkan’s EDD’s, which ruined him completely. Blowing him away like a rag doll, into the wall. Turned out he didn’t have much health left.

“Oh scheiße again?!” Was all you heard as ‘died’.

Then Twitch piped up, “Welcome to the prematurely dead club!”

“If you would have used your drone properly I wouldn’t be here right now.” It came out as a joke, but Twitch failed to see the funny side of it.

“Maybe if you used your eyes you would have seen it. How many times have you stared into your own shield when you’ve activated its flash?” It was like two children bickering, and Mike was clearly getting disgruntled at it, his thumb and index finger finding the bridges of his nose over his mask somehow, as he pinches the general area.

Then you piped up, without thinking.  
“Keep your knickers on dipshits, drones please? Thank you.”

“Oh I see, you’re going to order us around? You know what, vote kick on the new guy. Thought he’s a bit of a prick.” Twitch wasn’t having any of it. That comment hurt just a little bit. But you had it coming, always saying before you think.

“You can actually vote to kick people from simulation training?” You were genuinely interested as to why.

“There’s a reason behind it, though it wasn’t always on offer to start.  
Take a guess at which two idiots are the reason it exists” Mike left you guessing, but it was obvious. Two idiots was all it took.

“Pichon you’re on your own on that vote I’m afraid.” That came from Mike once again.

“Oh come off it Mike he’s an ass. Just because you’re unlucky enough to have to deal with him 24/7. Does he call you dad yet?” There we go, she’s gone off on one. Who’d of thought she was this angry over something stupid?

“Enough of that Emmanuelle. You’re overreacting to some stupid little comment that had no meaning. Let’s just forget it, and carry on. This is an important training exercise” now Thatcher was in a bad mood. You really do need to work on that, and try harder to think before hand.

Carrying on from the living room you made your way up the northern stairs into the astronomy room. Hibana was checking every doorway for EDD’s, though only two more were laying about. Thatcher was watching your flank and you had point. It was rather quiet, but Valkyrie was watching, and knew where you were. You came to a reinforced wall that was electrified, and Thatcher wanted it open to allow less spots for them to sit and hold, and create easier access.

“EMP incoming” he called, twisting the top and tossing it towards the wall.

Nothing.

Jäger had managed to get one of his ADS’s in very awkward spot, out of sight. But Thatcher simply shot it and it was done for.

“Fookin’ shite. Final EMP coming” again Thatcher twisted the top, and tossed it towards the wall.

Darkness. The wall was safe to breach.

“X-Kairos deployed, ready to breach...okay!” Hibana fired all of her pellets at the wall and detonated them. You watched the left, Thatcher right.

*Boom*

“New hole ready to enter” Hibana carefully walked towards the wall, peeking in, checking the corners before entering.

“It’s quiet. Should be clear to en-“

*Boom* 

Off goes another nitro cell, interrupting Hibana, and sending her off out of sight. But she wasn’t down yet. Pulling out her AR, she recalls the position that the nitro came from and pre-fires the corner, which there she found Valkyrie around.  
At the same time, Bandit had come from the games room and pushed close, spotting him you take a couple pot shots at him but miss as he ducks behind cover.

The German peeks out again and you catch a glimpse, taking a few more shots again. This time you caught his leg and arm, but it wasn’t enough. Then bandit fires back, and manages to riddle you with at least 7 bullets, all to the chest and leg, knocking you down.  
You weren’t ‘dead’ yet, but you’re slowly bleeding out.

“Shit” Yumiko was out. Valkyrie got a point blank shot on Hibana with her Spas-12 and finished the Japanese woman off with her Desert Eagle.

The hyper-realism of this simulation sent your head swimming. The flash backs of that day were fresh in your mind.  
And just like that day, you didn’t feel much pain, like these suits that you’re wearing simulate all hits and contact but not to the same level as you would feel in real life.  
But in a sense, this was exactly what it was like in real life for you.  
You pushed on, the adrenaline pumping fast in your system. The pain that should be was just a dull buzz. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, but you passed out from blood loss before your adrenaline wore off.

You can even see your own blood in the simulation as your vision slowly became blurrier and darker.

“F-fuck...M-Mike? I need a h-h-hand” you tried spitting it out, but the memory played with you.  
You’re not dying, you’re not actually dying, you’re fine, you can speak normally. You kept thinking that over and over, but your head just wasn’t listening.

“It feels just like that day...aghhh shit I didn’t want to relive that...what am I doing getting into this mess?” You barely sputtered that out, forgetting you’re still on comms as you bleed out.

But that’s when you felt an arm underneath you, wrapped around and pulling you to safety. You tried moving yourself to help.

*Bang*

“One opfor remaining” the announcer called. 

The body of Valkyrie dropped right in front of you as Thatcher puts a single round from his P226 into her forehead. But your vision was still getting worse.

“H-help?” You mumbled.

“I’m here, don’t ya worry” the reassurance was nice at a time like this.

With what little vision you had left you saw something fly through the air. A small flashing red light and a faint beeping sound was heard. Nitro cell.

Well, that’s the end for you, you were sure of it. But it never went off.

Thatcher saw it immediately, and shot it out mid air with a single shot, then he threw his entire handgun out towards Bandit’s position.

Then you felt yourself get yanked in, the older man had crouched on to one knee and pulled you in, using your shoulder to rest his L85 on, his left arm now supporting you as well as his upper body. Then Bandit rushed the corner, he fired off a couple shots as he rounded the corner, both hitting Thatcher’s arm that was across your chest.

*bang*

Bandit dropped to the floor.

“Opfor eliminated.”

The dull buzzing feeling faded and your vision returned as the simulation had ended. Looking up to the man behind you, you could tell he was smiling behind his mask.

“You performed excellently my boy.”  
His hand found your shoulder once again, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I tried, I guess” was what you managed to reply with. Looking back at the man you managed a faint grin which the older operative accepted by stroking your cheek for a second.

Leaning in to your ear, his shallow and calm breathing loud and clear, “Cute aren’t ya?”  
You didn’t know how to respond to that, you just looked at him almost blankly, that small smile still sitting across your face.

Then the world around you disappeared and everyone else came into sight. Slowly picking yourself up from the floor and brushing yourself off.

Everyone gathered around, talking about the training session.  
Then a whiny voice slowly made its way in over the top of the general chatter.  
“I can’t be bothered to do this with Mr. In control of everything here. I don’t care if he’s new to it, who is he to order me about?” Of course, it was Twitch.

She either wasn’t having a good day, or genuinely has an issue with minuscule requests, seeing as she’s still pissed off from earlier.

But what do you know...you open your mouth without thinking.

“Alright, you’re on your period we get it” congratulations, smart comment.  
The look you got from her was not pleasant. A few others just looked on trying not to laugh.

“You can’t be serious?! Putain de connard...” (You fucking asshole). Then that was it, she simply vanished from sight. Exiting the simulation and leaving the room entirely.

“One down, how many more to go?” You got a few more stares, all relatively mixed. The three Germans were trying their hardest not to laugh, Hibana just looked a little dumbstruck.  
Thatcher was face palming harder than you’ve ever seen anyone facepalm before. Caveira just genuinely enjoyed the bickering and was looking over with a smug grin. Kapkan looked lost and Valkyrie was mostly confused as to what happened, but didn’t exactly look pleased herself. It was an entire spectrum of emotions on display.

“You know what (Y/n)? I think I have an operator name for you. 影 (Kage). It means shadow in my language” You liked the sound of that, and immediately took a liking to it.

“Sold, I’ll take shadow in weeaboo, cheers!” You could hear the facepalm this time. Mike realised that he’s going to have to read you a little harder, seeing as these moments happen much more often than he’d think.

Hibana just sighed but was smiling through it, she didn’t take offence to it.  
But you caught yourself this time, and decided to apologise appropriately.

“ごめんなさい [Gomen’nasai]” (Sorry), Hibana looked a little shocked to hear you apologise in Japanese, but she was grateful for the consideration.

“問題ありません [Mondaiarimasen]” (It’s no problem) she replied, giving you a thumbs up.

For the next 5 minutes you all stood around going over the training, looking at ways to improve and change.  
Then those 5 minutes turned to hours.  
Countless rounds had gone by, constant training session after another. Learning new areas and situations.

Time flew by without notice.

You all ended up finishing the simulation training at 5:30 PM. How nobody noticed it was already getting that late was insane. But it was almost fun to say the least. It really was like a video game, but everything you learn there will translate to your real missions whenever they may come about.

Though you hadn’t finished just yet. After changing out of the suits and packing away the sim equipment, Thatcher pulled you to the side and asked you to go with him to the range. Wanting to get some real practice in for a few minutes.

Naturally you obliged and followed him, though you didn’t make it far down the hallway before being stopped in your tracks.

“Mike! Hey mate, James an Mark want tae go ‘own the pub fae 7ish, sound good?” Looking up at the man who even slightly topped Thatcher in height, his voice unmistakably Scottish.

“Never a bad idea is it Seamus?” Replied the older, stroking his beard.

“Aye, can always find a good reason for tae pub. Ye canny miss oot on it lad either!” The last part was directed at you, asking you to come along.

“I mean I don’t drink but sure I’ll come along, I’ll bring Adriano too as I promised him I’d l take him in my car the other day when I arrived” Openly confessing that you don’t drink right after accepting an offer to join someone at the pub really didn’t sound that great, but you have your reasons.

“The more the merrier” Sledge shot back, giving you the finger guns as he walked off.

“Well, plans for tonight are sorted” you said, hands coming together loudly.

Luckily you made it down to the range without being interrupted, and spent a good few minutes just talking about the simulation whilst firing off a few rounds.  
Getting more and more accustomed to the gun.

Remembering that you were now on relatively tight time constraints, having you both leaving the firing range rather soon.

The walk back to the room was effortless for the two of you.  
Making it back through the door, you took your shoes off and taking a seat on the sofa.

Only moments later did you feel pressure on your shoulders. Looking up and stretching your neck, you saw beautiful green eyes staring down on you, bearded lips curled upwards, warm and welcoming as always. Those expert fingers of his started working wonders on your joints, as he gently massaged your shoulders. It was out of the blue but much appreciated. It felt good.

“How about you go clean yourself up whilst I cook dinner again eh?” He was an absolute dream, and he does too much for you already.

“S-sure” stuttering like you wanted to protest his offer. Feeling useless again.

But you reluctantly moved yourself from the sofa, and in to the bedroom, where you undressed.  
Before pulling a towel out and disappearing, you grabbed some fresh clothes out from the wardrobe and laid them out ready.

Finding your way into the bathroom, and fiddling with the shower controls to get the water temperature just how you like. It could easily of been 5 minutes and you were done, but you used the time in the shower to help clear your head, as all of those intruding thoughts never truly leave you alone.

Though you didn’t take the piss either, you weren’t in the shower for any longer than 15 minutes. Maybe an extra 10 minutes to dry up and change.

Feeling nice and fresh, you got up and headed out of the bedroom, staring at your phone as the group chat that you and your old friends are in started kicking off. You were too distracted to see Mike was standing in the door way, about to call you through for dinner.  
All you could do was walk right into him, which startled you.

“Shit, sorry...sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, I didn’t mea-“ but you got cut off as he suddenly grasped you by the waist and pulled you in.

“Stop. Apologising. For. Stupid. Little. Things.” Every word was abrupt, but he was sweet about it.

“Dinner is ready (Y/n). Please take a seat” finishing off with yet another wink. His hands still holding your waist in place for a few more seconds, the contact between you both got you flustered.

Sighing as the older man released you from his grasp and disappeared, you slowly walked to the table, where two plates were laid out, cutlery carefully placed and two glasses of water sat atop coasters. Or so you hoped it was water and not vodka. It’d be enough to knock someone out if it was.

You took your seat, looking at the food in front of you. The smell of garlic was strong, but not overpowering.  
Sat ever so carefully on top of what looked to be tagliatelle was some chicken and fine chopped mushrooms in a creamy sauce, still steaming hot.  
It smells divine, and you just wanted to dig right in, but, you waited for the older man, noticing that he laid his out too. You don’t want to start before he gets back as it would be rude.

Only five minutes later and he returned from the bedroom, freshly showered and changed, he looked absolutely beautiful to you. Wearing some casual jeans and brown leather shoes. His upper half sported a casual button-up light blue shirt that hugged his body, showing off just about every curve, his muscles really showing, not caring about his dad-bod(ish) appearance. He had tucked in the bottom, and left the top two buttons undone, you could see just a bit of his manly fur poking through. His hair fixed perfectly and his beard still intact. You secretly hoped that he’d never shave it off.

“(Y/n)...gawking again” the older man chimed, smiling at your dumb look.

“Wha-? Sorry...” it’s like what he said a few minutes ago went through one ear and out of the other.

Thatcher just sighed, feeling a little defeated.  
“You didn’t have to wait for me to return before eating. I don’t want you going hungry my sweet, now hurry, eat up, before it gets cold” a familiar, warm palm came to stroke your cheek before cold air slapped you.

“Sometimes I feel like a child...” still haven’t learnt that Thatcher can read your lips, you barely whispered. You couldn’t even hear yourself.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed to feel like one boyo, I know you missed out a lot growing up. You deserve this, so please, don’t put yourself down about it. I don’t mind at all, you’re a pleasure to have around, and I hope you stay beside me for a long while” Mike was just being straight up soppy, and it works on you. It helps lift a weight that’s holding you down, you don’t feel like much of an inconvenience anymore, but a little part of you still felt bad for having someone practically look after you.  
Saying that, you felt your emotions battle your deepest desires.

Since you could remember, all you ever wanted was someone who’d love you. Someone who would hold you at night when ever you had a nightmare, would tuck you in and kiss you goodnight. Maybe even read a bedtime story. All the other kids would talk about how their parents did all of this and all of that for them, and you just hated them for it. You don’t hate those people anymore. The innocence of a child is too pure, they didn’t know the struggle you had growing up without.

You wished you had a parent figure in your life, but as you matured, and your hormones kicked up, the want of a parent and your secret homosexuality turned into wanting a dad, in the sense of an older sexual partner.  
Coming to terms with your daddy issues at 17 wasn’t exactly hard, just a pain to hide from your close friends.

But you didn’t get ballsy enough as a young man to explore the world of online dating apps, in the end considering it to be a waste of time. You didn’t know how to approach anyone, and your trust issues spoke for you in the end. You got so used to being misled, misguided and hurt that you were afraid it would happen again. By 18 you were ready to live your life alone, and the suicidal tendencies that you thought had disappeared came back. It was a battle you couldn’t win, but it was something you always came out on top of, because you’re still alive.

Looking to the bearded man across from you, carefully gazing into every one of his features, you felt a spark. You felt like you were home with him, and yet it’s only just been a day and a half since you met him.

That spark first ignited ever since you first laid eyes on him, and the fire that started only started burning.

“(Y/n), c’mon boyo, eat up” The deep voice boomed through the deathly silent room, snapping you out of your daydream-like state.

“Sorry sir...” you frowned, looking down at your untouched plate.  
‘Sir’? Where did that come from?

“It’s okay if you’re not feeling hungry, boy. I won’t be angry, I can always put it away for later if you want?” Is it’s impossible for you to make Mike angry? You don’t want to find out. But he’s just much sweeter than you’d of thought him to be.

The supposed hard-arse of the entire unit. Survived 3 wars and was on Team Blue during the Iranian Embassy siege, known as Operation Nimrod.  
He’s supposedly stern and strict, rumoured to be the best with young recruits, as he has a strong moral conviction and yada yada yada. You kind of dazed during Six’s whole introduction, and his quick profiling of the operators who where helping you out on day one.

Was Mike like this with every recruit he’s taken in? Did he take any others in to his dorm? Did he ever give them special treatment like this? Maybe you’ll get to a point and he’ll kick you out. That’ll be it, he’s done, doesn’t need you anymore.  
“Hey, what do you know? Something else that’s playing on my mind” you thought, maybe thought too much.

But you’re yet to see his strict side. So far, he was leaned back, and calm. He never once got mad at you yet, he’s been supportive and incredibly sweet with you. It’s nothing like you remembered Harry telling you.  
This time though as you catch yourself slowly going back into the daze, you mentally slap yourself and reply back.

“Oh no no, I am, just well...you know...staring off into space. It’s a hobby of mine” you tried to laugh it off, which seemed to work as his mouth twitched and a chuckle escaped his lips.

Looking down at the food, picking up your fork, you decided to finally dig in. Oh what a mistake. Regretting your decision to stargaze under a roof and dream about your desires. You feel like you missed out. Though you still have the entire plate to go, and it’s not walking away from you yet. You just regretted not eating sooner, it just tasted so good!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I’d have Yumiko come up with your operator name: 影 (Kage) which means shadow in Japanese).
> 
> ———
> 
> I didn’t manage to finish this chapter on the 22nd, but still, it may be the 22nd of June for some of you, so Happy Birthday to the best daddy! Happy Birthday Mike ‘Daddy Thatcher’ Baker!


	7. Pressure

Roughly 10 minutes later, you both finished your meal. This time you insisted on helping wash up what little was left.  
Getting it out of the way quicker than Mike normally would on his own, you felt good giving a hand to the busy man.

“Ready to get going sweet?” Asked the veteran. Looking up to him with a friendly gaze, you nodded.  
Walking to the door with Thatcher’s hand on your back, picking up your car keys and Thatcher picks up his.

“You’re driving too?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Door keys on them ya silly bastard!” Laughing at your question. Rubbing circles on the small of your back, it was comforting...you almost wanted to stop moving and ask him to keep doing it, but carried on.  
You waited on the older man to lock the door behind the two of you, pocketing his keys before carrying on towards the main hall where most of the other operators would hang around.

The tone of voice wasn’t serious as Mike jokingly called you a bastard, but to say it didn’t hurt you a little would be lying. You were a bastard by definition, and it was just a small reminder of something you try so hard to forget.

It was a quiet walk to the main hall, despite the fact it was rather busy.  
Upon entrance you were greeted with a wide, toothy grin from the Italian man and a few waves from the other SAS.  
You took a seat on the sofa looking around the room. Something didn’t feel right. You didn’t feel entirely welcomed.  
People who weren’t sat around with you looked at you funny, they weren’t friendly glares either. Just like your ‘parents’ used to give. You just wanted to get out.

Then a certain French woman caught your eye. She still looked pissed, and she was leaning in, whispering to some of the operatives between glances. Dark, cold glances.  
She really was bitter over such a small slip of the mouth, to the point it seems that she’s already talking shit to the others.

You didn’t notice the general chatter around your group, only snapping back after realising someone was trying to get your attention.

“Is he always this quiet Mike?” Another British voice, this time you didn’t recognise it.

“One of his favourite past times is ‘spacing out’ as he puts it, James” Mike replied, you looked to him and set eyes upon his kind smile.

“Yeah...sorry I do that a lot. It’s a good distraction from all the shit honestly” and honest you were.  
You’d do it all the time if something unsettles you in a relaxed environment. You’d just paint your face blank and look into nothingness. Everything negative is meaningless in that time.

Mike looked at you quizzically, trying to comprehend the severity of your issues, as he noticed that you space out like that a lot, and if that’s the only reason you space out for, then surely it’s got to be bad.

It really was. Even just little intrusive thoughts leave you in an almost trance like state, as you try to rid yourself of the negative emotions that flood in.  
But you do what you always do, brave face, smile and carry on.  
Feeling like you’d be an inconvenience if you brought up any of your personal issues around the others.

You don’t like being an attention seeker, and you’ve never attempted to be. You don’t like attention seekers yourself. That’s a rule you’ve always had; ‘don’t become what you hate’. You’ll only hurt yourself more if you do.

Sitting quietly twiddling your thumbs and bouncing your knee ever so slightly, you decided to just keep quiet and wait for the time to go. But that time came almost immediately, as Thatcher, concerned, could tell you were slowly becoming agitated. Though he couldn’t see why yet, as everyone here at Rainbow respected him greatly.  
Twitch and whoever it was she had told was good at hiding their expressions. Anytime Thatcher would glance around their glares turned to gazes, not a single ounce of hatred visible.

“Everyone who’s coming is here right?” Thatcher did a quick head count before confirming. All of the SAS were going, you drove one car, and you had Adriano for sure as one passenger.  
Dom and Marius wanted to come too, and Marius jumped in and shotgunned a seat in your car. Though none specified.  
Thatcher you didn’t know who he was going with, but he made it clear that he’s not the driver tonight.

Dom couldn’t make his mind up and Seamus, Mark and James insisted that they all went together.

No longer than 2 minutes later and you’re all stood in the car park.  
Standing next to your car you just looked blank, waiting for Dom and Mike to decide who they’re going with. The 3 other SAS operatives were hoping Mike would join them, but Mike insisted that Dom makes the choice for himself first.

Give it 5 more minutes and you’re getting fed up of them borderline bickering.

“Dom, make the choice, who do you want to go with?”

“I want you to make the choice Thatch...”

“Why are you so bloody ignorant? You usually complain that you don’t get to choose fookin’ shite, now you don’t want to?”

“Dominic stop being a fucking pain” that came from Jäger this time, who was also slowly losing his cool.

Just on cue, you start your car before Bandit even makes a sound. Roaring to life and scaring the crap out of a couple of them, who were not expecting it. Music playing quietly from the speakers.

“If you’re being like that, I’m not getting in the car with you, Marius”

“Settled, lads, look after Brunsmeier” Thatcher took a small glance at the other 3 SAS and smiled before walking over to your car. Bandit strolled to the Jeep that Sledge was sat behind the wheel of, jumping in.

“I suggest Marius sits up front, back seats are a little close, and considering he’s the shortest of you guys it’ll be easier for us all” you chimed in giving your advice on seating.

Like that, Maestro climbed in and sat behind your seat, Thatcher followed soon after and got behind the front passenger seat. Jäger got in soon after, adjusting his seat forwards as comfortably as possible.

“Right...belts on, please” looking in the rear view and making eye contact with the two older men in the back, before looking to your left and staring at the German.  
It was a relatively funny sight to see, Thatcher looking almost cramped in the back of your car, with a rather neutral look on his face.  
Adriano was just smiling, admiring every little detail that your car had.  
Marius was geeking out at the onboard electronics system. Mostly the computer that sat in the middle of the dash. Displaying every vital of the engine. From water and oil temperature and pressure, how many PSI of boost you were pushing during acceleration and air and fuel ratio and pressure.  
You could set it to lap timer, or use it to focus on just one simple reading.  
There’s a lot that it can do but no time to explain it all otherwise you’d never leave the car park.

You agreed to follow the Jeep to the pub that they frequented, considering you don’t know where you’re going it was a good idea.

“Sorry, car is going to be loud” apologising in advanced to the three of them, to which, Thatcher and Maestro both replied in sync, “we know.”  
You just smiled.

Both you and Jäger were already slightly jamming along to one of the songs that was playing from your phone, the song being Sigma’s remix to ‘Somebody To Love’ by Rusko. You and the German already had something in common, liking the same songs was a good start. Though you weren’t sure how the other two were liking the music.

Though your choice was relatively diverse, you’re sure there’s something in it that everyone will love.  
But you had to ask the question anyway.

“Any kind of music you like in particular?” Looking to your rear view for a split second, you see Mike open his mouth.

“Anything that isn’t classical should keep me happy boyo. But I do like a bit of the 80’s. Rock being a preference, but not entirely fussed” of course, it was almost stereotypical.

“Adriano?” You asked.

Again a relatively lax reply, “just about anything, can’t really think of a favourite genre. But I do appreciate classical unlike Thatch here!” It wasn’t meant to be taken as a jab and it didn’t. Everyone just smiled and laughed a little.

“Well, guess the passcode to the Bluetooth in here and put whatever you want on” The offer seemed a bit ridiculous, but you knew it’d be extremely hard for them to guess the passcode. It was a complete guessing game from here with no clues.

“It’s 12345678” Maestro said out loud. He’s quick.

But Thatcher interjects immediately, whilst showing the Italian his phone. “Yes, but it’s actually typed out like this-(2444666668888888).” Your music stopped immediately and Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard started playing. How did he figure it out that quick?

You thought you were being smart setting the password to ‘one two, three four’s, five six’s and seven eight’s’.  
Just because telling people that it was 12345678 and seeing them get frustrated at it being wrong, but technically correct gave you a kick.  
But you really didn’t expect anyone to figure out your little secret in such a short time.

Looking in the rear view mirror again for a few seconds, eyes meeting with Mike’s as he quietly sings along to the song, he’s fully aware you’re looking at him as he winks and smirks at you. It’s like he was singing it to you at the time.

The road you followed was wide but empty, it was a long straight that you could see for miles down, it was so tempting to just over take the others and fly down the road ahead.

“Hey, (Y/n), pull up beside them, I want to start something” when Jäger says he wants to start something, you should probably stop him.

“Thatch? Put on Hey There Delilah by the Plain White T’s bitte?” You see where he’s going with this, as your passenger window comes down and Marius leans out the window, pulling up beside the Jeep, he’s waving them to slow down and put their window down.

The German man child reached over and turned the music up as he realised it was what he requested.  
Looking over to the other car you realised their expressions changed as the song reached them, and Jäger was scream-singing at them.  
No more than 5 seconds later and the car next to you were also singing the song. Oh no.

Mike slowly joined in as well as Adriano, and then you.  
It was a rather weird sight, luckily no cars stuck behind or oncoming.

“Hey there Delilah, I know times are getting hard, but just believe me, girl, someday I’ll pay the bills with this guitar, we’ll have it good, we’ll have the life we knew we would, my word is good...” it seems everyone loves this song, which made you smile even more than you already were.

Once the song ended and changed, everyone calmed down and you dropped off behind the Jeep, continuing to following them.  
The majority of the drive was quiet and relaxing, with a little bit of chatter every now and then. Marius though got distracted with the onboard computer, First flicking to the G-meter, then to the boost reading.  
But his following comment came unexpectedly,  
“This has the Nismo MFDII updated computer?” Was he familiar with these cars?

“Yeah it does!” Your smile in your voice was noticeable. You loved talking about your car, it was your pride and joy.

“Genuine Bee-R rev limiter? Anti-lag?” This made you smile, you’d love to demonstrate the anti-lag to them, and the perfect opportunity was coming up as you just joined on to a 5 mile long dual carriage way.

“Can anyone direct me to the pub from here on?” You asked.

“Yes, but why?” Replied the other Brit.

“Hold on tight please. Marius wants to experience launch control” the biggest, cheesy grin already across your face.

You rolled up to the Jeep in the left lane, made sure your presence was known whilst slowly cruising in 6th, you made a scissor action with your middle and index finger towards the others in the Jeep, made sure they saw, before dropping to 5th, then 4th, then 3rd. You pressed one of the buttons on the Rev limiter, pulled ahead slightly of the Jeep, clutch in and held the accelerator down, the turbo’s spooled up, the whistling sound slowly creeped into everyone’s ears, then you hit 6500 revs.

What could only be described as heavy automatic gunfire came from your exhaust for a solid 5 seconds before you let off of the clutch aggressively and launched your car ahead. All four wheels gripping up as you disappeared from the sight of the Jeep.  
Marius was half laughing and half screaming, Mike and Adriano had a small look of concern on their face, but another small glance back at them in the mirror sees them smiling slightly.  
You couldn’t help but be extremely pleased with yourself, enjoying the drive.

The only words spoken once you slowed back down to ‘legal’ speeds came from Thatcher,  
“Jesus fookin’ Christ.”  
It made you chuckle loudly.

The Jeep was far behind, and now you were following Thatcher’s directions.  
You weren’t far away from the pub though, and you found yourself in its car park only about 5 minutes later.  
You all stood outside of your car whilst waiting on the others to arrive, which didn’t take too long.

Getting out of the car first was Bandit, who immediately walked up to you to geek out over your car.  
“It sounds so good! Scheiße it makes me want one!” Looks like someone else who’s going to want a ride, but you really don’t mind at all.

Of course, James has to speak up not long afterwards, with something a lot les constructive.  
“Your car is only loud to compensate for your small cock.” Though you didn’t take it seriously and just laughed out loud, only to then shut up immediately because Mike thought now would be the best time to embarrass you.  
“I can assure you James, that you’ve got the smallest willy of the lot here.”  
Somewhat implying to everyone else that he’s seen your manhood, which he has. Your cheeks flushed red but you managed to hide yourself, and luckily everyone turned to laugh at Smoke instead, who looked almost pissed off.

“Dare I remind you why I saw it?” The older man piped up once more, raising an eyebrow at the sulking Brit.  
His facial expression changed immediately and he jumped up, “no no no, it’s fine. We...shall forget it. Thank you” what ever it was had him extremely worried.

Gradually you all made it inside, Adriano ordered first, though you didn’t catch what it was, you do know it was one of the local ales that they sell. Seamus just went right in for a pint of lager, and so did Mark.  
Mike ordered himself a pint of beer, another local one, though this was a much lighter coloured one compared to Adriano’s.  
James ordered himself a pint of Carling too, as well as a pint of cider. First thing that came to your head was a snakebite but he didn’t keep the cider, instead he passed it to Mike.

“What can I get you mate?” The voice behind the bar called for you.

“Oh sorry, just a pint of coke will do me mate” you replied.

“Designated driver I see?” Asked the barman.

“Yeah...I don’t mind though, I personally get more enjoyment out of driving than I do drinking. Never both.  
Lost too many friends to that” it took a rather dark turn but you didn’t go into it, and the barman didn’t push. He just smiled and handed you your glass.

“I like people who take a responsibility like such seriously. I notice you’re a fresh face around these, you’ll be alright. Just watch and make sure James doesn’t do anything stupid” smiling once more before he turned his attention to the Germans who were still deciding on their tipple of choice.

Taking a seat with them, you joined into the middle of a conversation about Mark’s last mission. You already missed a rather large chunk out of it so didn’t tune in to the rest of it.  
Then tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee made their way over, both with a pint of Guinness each.

Soon enough the conversation was over and your eyes noticed the pint of cider in Mike’s hand. The glass had ‘Thatcher’s’ across it. Well known cider brand in the UK. The draught was always called Stan’s, after the founders first name. Of course you knew these because as soon as you turned 18, you took up a job in a pub local to you. You had the inheritance to live off of, but you didn’t want to live a life doing nothing. It’d slowly eat you alive.

Must be a joke between the lot here to get him a pint of it on every visit considering that Mike didn’t order it himself.

“Thought you’d go a little harder than a pint of Coke mate?” Asked the youngest of the SAS, Mark.

“Nah...I don’t drink and drive, won’t touch even a drop especially considering I’ve got my pride and joy.” You answered honestly, which is respectable on this situation.

“Yeah that’s fair enough” the reply was short but sweet, he’s a good guy.

“Grow a pair and get a pint you pansy” it came across as a joke and you took it like one, laughing at the black haired Brit’s comment.

“Safety first matey, I don’t want to risk wrecking my beaut” simply replying in a friendly tone.

“Bah that shit cant cost that much for you to worry about it surely?” He was in for a shock.

“65,000 quid” you muttered it but just loud enough for them to hear.

“You fucking what? You’re having me on? How can you bloody afford that?”

“Well...I bought it for 25,000 quid”

“So it’s a 25,000 pound car then you bellend”

“Well...no. It’s called appreciation”

“Fuck off has it appreciated that much, having me on now”

“Feel free to look around on import sites and auctions, eBay may have one or two floating about, if you don’t believe me.” You were right though, they appreciated in price hard, luckily after you bought yours, and they’re only going up and up.

“Besides, I’ve put over 30 grand in modifications on it. Though typically, modified cars wouldn’t fetch much extra no matter how much you put in, these are iconic cars mate. People will pay the ridiculous prices for it now. One completely standard started bidding at over 130,000 about 8 months ago. Not sure what it went for in the end” finishing that up with a little fact was something you revelled in.  
God you could keep talking about them for years, they truly fascinated you.

Smoke just looked at you in disbelief but that topic was quickly forgotten about as general chatter carried on.

Slowly the sun set, and the pints went down. James and Seamus seemed to be challenging each other to a drinking contest. Gradually becoming more and more inebriated as time passed. Thatcher had gone on to the whiskey after he finished his pint, and barely touched the cider. He was only on his first though, and he was taking his time with it. You only just got on to your second pint of coke, still not giving in to the temptation of alcohol.

Adriano was on his 5th pint and the Germans were...well, no one knew how many they had.  
Mark was taking his time with his pints, but ended up switching to gin and tonics after his 3rd.

Then nature called, and you really needed to take a piss. You gave a little heads up as you disappeared to the toilets to relieve yourself. On the way James got up and walked with you, started chatting about your car as he asked, and then left him at the bar as he went to order more drinks.

But before disappearing he shouted for you, “Oi, (Y/n), mate! Want a drink? I’ll get ya a coke if you want?” He smiled at you, and you could only reciprocate that back at him.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you!” Shouting back at the fellow Brit.

It was a rather uneventful toilet visit. Small chat with a random who wandered in and getting arsey at a paper towel dispenser which didn’t want to give you more than a tiny clump of hand towel at a time.

Upon return you found everyone was sat around chatting nonsense like usual, and a full glass of coke waited for you.

You took your seat as Thatcher and Maestro greeted you with a warm smile.  
A small visual sweep of the table and it’s inhabitants saw an extremely interesting look from Smoke had you feeling a slight bit skeptical. He looked smug, really smug, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

You picked up your drink, and took a sip. But your face contorted as your tastebuds picked up something new.

“What have you done to it you wanker?” You looked straight at James, slightly annoyed.

“What, I haven’t done anything?” It was a terrible attempt at trying to sound innocent.

You took a quick smell, yeah, it was vodka.

“I don’t care, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t spike my drinks with vodka? There’s got to be a shit load in here, I can fucking smell it Jesus” you replied.

“Oh it’s only a little bit of vodka. You can leave your precious car here if you need”

“I’m not leaving my car here mate.”

“Just fucking drink it ya pussy”

“I have my reasons to why I don’t drink. One being that I’m driving, two I something I don’t really want to talk about. It’s personal, thanks.”  
You told him that, and you really didn’t want to get into it. It brings back too many bad memories.

“Oh suck it up lad and have a fucking drink” James was drunk, it was apparent to everyone.

“Just allow it mate. I don’t expect to be pressured into doing something I don’t want to due to personal reasons”

Then the jeering started from him.  
“Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy!”

“How many shots of vodka did you put in it? I can tell there’s more than 3.” It was potent, how you didn’t smell it before hand though is a wonder.

But then Jäger answered for him.  
“7 shots. They do them by 25 millilitres so that’s 175 millilitres”

“Are you having a fucking laugh? I mean it’s pretty obvious, but the fact you still tried to spike it and deny it? Dickhead.” You weren’t pleased, it genuinely pissed you off.

“Stop being a boring cunt. Absolute pussy lad”  
He wasn’t giving in.

“Guys it’s fathers day next week by the way” coming out of nowhere was Jäger, gently reminding us of the holiday.

“Fuck it I’m going outside, need to clear my head. Just allow me and don’t bother about me. Also Marius, no one gives two shits. I don’t at least, my old man is dead, and if he wasn’t, I’d be fucking wishing upon a bus to strike him down and paint the road red, and make it painful and long.”  
You stood up and calmly walked out the door of the pub, taking a seat on a bench.

Thatcher watched carefully, feeling sorry for you. That was something he was expecting to see at some point, but not this early on. He has half an idea why you don’t drink, and genuinely felt bad. It helped that he got a look of your psychological profile, he knows a lot about you.

Sitting outside was refreshing. The cold evening breeze helped keep you calm as you thought everything through. Pondering the reason why you’re here.

“Martello, watch the children. I’ll go and see if the boy is alright” Thatcher knew there’s a lot more to it than just James’ drunk pestering, so he swiftly made his exit from the pub to find you, though it wasn’t hard as you were visible to everyone, a giant window behind you that you were unaware of.

The rest of them just watched the older man walk outside and take a seat next to you.  
Slowly you began turning to look at the man, noticing his presence as the sound of a door closing and his footsteps alerted you.

“Are you okay sweet?” His hushed tone was comforting in the moment.

“Yeah...I think so. Just got shit on my mind. Don’t worry about me, Mike. James is drunk and I let him get in my head, it’s fine” it was a rather quiet but blunt reply.

“Don’t tell me not to worry about you boyo. I worry about you a lot you know? Whereas for James? Yes; he’s drunk. But that’s not an excuse for his actions. I don’t want to pry, but the drinking ordeal...parents eh?” It was saddening to hear that he worries about you.

How he knows these things scared you almost, but you felt obliged to reply. “Kind of. That’s not all of it though, but it doesn’t matter. Please, just leave me be, I don’t want to bother you or anyone else.”  
The pain in your voice was clear to the man, and it hurt him.

“Do you mind telling me? You don’t have to if yo-” But the older man was abruptly interrupted by your silent outburst that came from almost nowhere. No provocation, and your calm, quiet voice showed no signs of erupting.

“5 of my fucking friends died thanks to alcohol. Don’t want to touch the shit, especially when I’m driving. 4 of them just taken out of the world from me in an instant because some cunt was drunk behind the wheel. Bang. Gone. Won’t ever see them again. It’s a massive fucking shame because they were the realest friends I’ve had. I left almost nobody behind when I came here. What, maybe two or 3 friends only cared about me? I’ve been so fucking alone...Wanna know what happened to the last one?” You didn't care much more, you couldn’t help but vent.

“I’m sorry sweet. I’m really sorry...” That ever so sweet voice, kind and warming.  
“...I can see it’s hurting ya to recall these memories. You don’t have to carry on.”

But you did, and you broke.  
You tried not to choke but you did.  
“He...h-h-he was fucking murdered in front of me. We were 8...he was fucking murdered by a psychopathic drunken fuck who called himself my FUCKING DAD! I bloody watched him stab my friend in front of me. I can’t sleep at night without hearing him scream Mike...” you were trying hard not to cry. Your voice broke when you called out for the older man.  
You didn’t want to have a full on breakdown. That little part inside you kept telling you, ‘you’ve grown up and done crying. Look where you are, you’d look like a fool if you cried over something like this now’.

That was always in your head. That’s why you try to avoid talking about your issues, you feel like a burden to others by bothering them with your problems.

You sat still, shaking. You don’t know what to do.  
But an arm snaked behind your back and pulled you in, making you lean on to the bearded operator beside you.

His hand rubbing your side, as he cooed out to you.  
“Jesus, I’m so sorry...You shouldn’t of ever had to see that as a young’n”

“I’ll g-get over it. You’ve seen worse than I have. I don’t have a right to be getting all fucking depressed.” It was really hitting you hard, but you tried biting your tongue to stop yourself from babbling on, but Mike just knew what to say at that moment.

“(Y/n), never when I was a boy did I experience anything like you have. Your mind was young and developing, you were never prepared for the horrors you faced. I signed up to this life knowing what’s ahead. I’ve had my share of sleepless nights, but those are long gone. I know, that sadly for you, that on its own is enough to completely destroy your life and your perception of the world. It’s heartbreaking, boyo. I really am sorry for you sweet. You’ll be okay. You’ve got me...” he was compassionate and calm when he spoke, comforting you gently.  
“...would you like to go back home?”

“Why would I want to go home? I only just started here.” your voice still cracking as you tried to hold yourself together.

“You know where home is now, lad? Because I know you still think it’s where you came. But home is with me, back at the base, in our little private dorm” Thatcher’s big hand that caressed your right side made its way to your left side and rubbed your thigh lovingly.  
“So, once more. Would you like to go home?”

You just looked at the hirsute man, dumbfounded.

“I...uh, yeah. I do. I just want to sleep, Mike”  
The offer sounds good to you. Your head was swimming and you felt like you were going to blow up and breakdown into a bumbling mess of tears and broken words.

“Right then, let’s get up, get our shite and get out of here” you felt that familiar arm make its way back around your waist, this time coming up and under your arm to lift you up.

This entire time you didn’t know that they were all watching the moment that you and Thatcher shared, and their eyes followed you both as you entered the pub once again.

But it was James you were dealing with, and he wasn’t one to quit.

“Heyyyyy! The pussy boy has come back! Had a nice cuddle with daddy? He make you feel better? Ya silly faggot...Please, I’m joking, have a drink and relax” but you chose to just completely ignore him.  
Mike however, learning this new information didn’t brush it off.

“James, if I was you, I’d shut your fookin’ mouth before I leave you here with a broken jaw and 3 fookin’ teeth. People should expect to have their simple requests respected, but you always have to step out of line don’t ya?”  
The older man literally barked at his comrade, visibly irritated by his behaviour.

This overprotective side of Mike was scary. You felt useless in his presence again, like you were a child.

“Oh but Michael I’m only joking...don’t be mad at me!” He was practically whining.

“We’re going, Adriano, please organise them and yourself a taxi for whenever it is you’re ready to leave. Remember the drop off point, I will organise someone sober to pick you up the rest of the way. James, I do not want to see you come back to base, bollock fookin’ naked and paralytic. Told ya I was unfortunate enough to of gotten an eyeful of your little todger once. Never again, ya hear me? Because I won’t carry you if ya do. That was a one time thing, because no one else would even dare.” Mike was not a happy bunny, and it left you feeling intimidated by him, he sounded like he would snap someone’s neck if they even looked at him funny.

“Mike...h-how could you tell everyone that?” James was now shook, that his secret has been revealed.

But just as quick as the last, Mike shot back. “Maybe you should have respected someone’s wishes and not pestered them about an incredibly hurtful and personal topic.”

Mike grabbed your keys and both yours and his wallet from the table and bid them an early farewell.  
Upon reaching your car, you found yourself staring into the drivers seat awkwardly, as Mike made himself comfortable.

“Passenger side, I’ll drive.” It was an order, so you made yourself move to the left of the car and got in. It felt weird being on this side of your own car, and you felt uneasy.

“I don’t feel safe with you driving...you’ve been drinking. Did you forget what I just fucking said?” Your nerves really kicked in and you started sweating.

“No no, I know sweet. I’m still under the legal limit. I was prepared for something like this, because sadly, I know James. But even he managed to sneak it past me.” You almost wanted to shout at the man as he said he was ready for this to happen, making you think that he just let Smoke spike your drink. “You will be okay. You’re safe with me.” Your hand slowly warmed up as the older man placed his own over yours. Rubbing circles with his thumb on the back.

A part of you still wanted to scream, and tell him to get out and that you’ll drive. But you really did trust this man so much already. You felt completely comfortable with him, and soon calmed down. It was like every problem in your head just disappears when you’re with him. You immediately forget all the trauma you’ve suffered as a child.

“The clutch is quite aggressive...” muttering quietly, before noticing that Thatcher had already got going without an issue.

A few minutes pass and you realise that Mike is quietly speaking to you. You had been vigilant, not letting your eyes off of the road, yawning wide quite often.

Again, his hand found yours and he held it, making sure to give it a gentle squeeze every so often.

“You can relax, sweet. You’re safe with me...trust me.” His voice was soothing, you could fall asleep listening to it. That deep, rough West Country drawl was like a magic spell on you. You didn’t really notice how tired you were until Thatcher told you to relax. Yet, just like that, you closed your eyes a little and let the mind wander. Even with the absurd volume of your car, the exhaust being the loudest over everything, the turbo whistle piercing your ears under load, the occasional blow off valve every time Mike let off of the accelerator, it wasn’t enough to keep you up. If anything, that was just white noise that helped you into your short slumber.

The older man held your hand as he drove you both ‘home’, only letting go to change gears when needed. You were completely unaware of his nonsense soft talk, but somehow you still smiled like you just knew he was comforting you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be alright, I’m here for ya, boyo. You’re safe with me” he just repeated it over and over whilst holding your hand close to him.

———

You opened your eyes to what was almost complete darkness. The moonlight barely illuminating the rough figure in the drivers seat. His eyes set on the road ahead, the headlights guiding the way along the asphalt path. The onboard computer was giving off all different readings, the dashboard lights faint blue glow making the older man’s green orbs shine.

Without even looking over to you, he senses you awakening.  
“Have a nice nap (Y/n)?”  
So serene.

You’re still tired though, and barely mumble out a response. “Mmhmm”.

Noticing the hairs on the older man’s arms were tickling your forearm whenever he changed gear, before coming back to rest on top of your hand.  
You saw it had managed to wander to Thatcher’s inner thigh, but you don’t remember even getting ballsy enough and reaching out to touch him. Which you didn’t, Mike had put your hand there. Though it shocked you a little, you didn’t retract your hand, you just accepted it.

“Not long now sweet, just a few more miles to go. Hope you don’t mind me openin’er up a little” You didn’t quite register what he said as you were still a little dazed, but it soon clicked when you were being pushed back in the seat as Mike gave it some. Taking every corner with ease, he knew this road extremely well, having his own bit of fun driving back.  
You could tell by his wide smile that he was enjoying it, and so were you, even if you’re still half asleep, gently squeezing the older man’s thigh, which got you a small squeeze in return.

You watched the speedometer hypnotically. 70, 80, 90, 80, 70, 60, 55...holding this rather tight left hander at 55, before coming out of the corner and putting his foot down again, already back to 90 miles per hour in 2 seconds from 4th gear.  
He knew how to drive well, you would have thought he’s had plenty of extra experience with the way he handled your car.

120, 130, 140, 150, 160...it could keep going, it was a heavily tuned and built car after all, and it still felt planted and stable. You realised now that you were on that long wide road that only hours ago you were all slowly cruising down, singing Hey There Delilah. Mike really was pushing it, and yet you felt comfortable, even though you yourself have never pushed your own car any more than 140 mph, and that was on a track.

The car then slowly started decelerating, the barbed wire fences in sight.  
Pulling up to the gate at a snails pace, Thatcher turned in, even managing to find the indicators straight away instead of hitting the windscreen wipers. That was something that took you a couple of months to get used to, being a Japanese import, the indicator stalk and windscreen wiper stalk were on the opposite side to what you’re used to in the UK.  
Was he also familiar with the car?

Then he came to a stop, and whoever it was on duty came over. You could hear him talking out loud.  
“I can hear you coming from a mile away (Y/n)! What were you doing? 120? You’re not drunk I hope!” That voice was slightly familiar, Male, American. You just couldn’t put a name to it. But what you gathered was that he knew it was your car, and assumed you were driving.  
That’s when the window came down and Mike answered.  
“Got it to 160, could have kept going. Hurry up and let me in Trace” the man in question was Thermite. You saw his bandaged hands come to rest on the top of the door card.

“Oh...Mike? Why have you got the new guys car?”  
He asked bewildered.

“James spiked his drink and (Y/n) started feeling unwell” it was a half truth, though you didn’t actually drink it and you weren’t unwell, just tired. But he flat out lied for you to keep you from embarrassment.

Then you saw the man in question lean in and look to you with a smile and a wave, before looking to Mike. “You didn’t drink too surely? Because I’d be worried if you didn’t drink Mike.”

“This is James we’re talking about Jordan. New guy, first time at the pub with us...I half expected it, though he slipped it past me this time. He went way out of line on this one, 7 shots of vodka in a single pint, and (Y/n) already said he’d take the responsibility of being the designated driver. I’m not best pleased with him.”

Mike was still a bit agitated at that, but that was calming to you, he genuinely cared for you. That sent butterflies throughout your stomach.

“Also, Jordan. Organise a pick up for Martello and the rest when they get back. Usual spot. Thank you” Mike added before getting ready to drive down the single track, back to base.

“Yeah sure...also, was it a smart idea to do 160 when (Y/n) isn’t feeling too good?” He had to shout that over the sound of the car as you both slowly pulled away from him.

The smirk on the older operators face was enough for you to get an idea of what he was thinking.  
Then you realised you still had your hand resting on Thatcher’s thigh, and all you could think was whether Thermite saw or not. “God that would be embarrassing” you thought.

Soon enough you were pulling up, and Mike parked next to his own car. Though he didn’t turn the ignition off immediately, leaving your car to idle for a minute to let the oil circulate through the turbo’s to cool it down. It amazed you that he knew to do that too.

“You like what you can feel there lad?” The question made you jump. All you could do was look at the man slightly shocked, and went to withdraw your hand. But you were stopped by a gentle grasp that held your palm in place.

You couldn’t make a sound, you didn’t know what sound to make. But Mike didn’t wait on you to answer, your entire composure was similar to a deer stuck in a car’s headlights.  
“Think we should get out and get to bed lad”

Sleep sounds good, that’s all you want to do right now.


	8. Father’s Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double time skip coming up. First one (very start) will just be ‘filler’ if you may call it that, just for context for the sexy time that’ll come up.  
> Once that filler is over, it’ll skip once more to a bit further on, where there’ll be a lot more sad backstory and things get more intimate.
> 
> Expect a lot of hurt/comfort and romance.

##### 3 days later

“Guys I need a breach on the wall, I’m trapped here!”  
Gunfire popping off left and right. No way to go, you managed to back yourself into a corner, and you weren’t able to make an escape.  
The defenders were sure to find you soon.

“Im in maps office, stay clear of single wall on your right” his Russian accent distinct amongst the rest of your team mates.

The floor shook as the wall came down in an explosion, debris flying off in all different directions.

In the midst of the explosion, Pulse used it as the perfect distraction to get close, and next you know he’s opening fire on you, tagging your leg a couple times. You fired back with whatever you had left in the mag. 17 shots off on his position whilst you tried to retreat back, but as you went to reload he pushed. This was do or die. You dropped the L85 and swapped out to your M92FS, taking 6 shots as he came around the corner.

Pulse was ‘dead’. 

“I can’t find his ‘Pulse’, one less to worry about.”  
That was a terrible pun, and you felt ashamed to make it.

“Enough of the puns already (Y/n), focus on mission!” Fuze wasn’t much of joker it seemed. He’s a strict one, can’t even smile around him. If you do, he will flip.

You neared the biohazard container site, and came to rest in a soft wall.

“Placing cluster charge”  
You could hear it clunking as it gripped onto the wall. You both moved out of the way into better cover, just in case Fuze’s matryoshka charges bounce back and take you out.  
Fuze held the door into coast guards whilst you sat on the lower stairs.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

All five grenades detonated, taking out Doc.  
You were about to move up until you heard what sounded like a hover drone floating about. Sure enough, Echo had found you.

He hit you with one of his sonic bursts, which sent the world around you into what could only be described as a drunken, dizzy mess. It made you feel nauseous.  
But you held out, and waited to regain your senses.

Then he hit you with it again, before dropping the drone from the ceiling. You took aim at the Yokai drone, but it stopped dead in its tracks.

You didn’t hear the small burst of fire from Fuze’s AK-12 as you were still dazzled. But he spotted Echo and took him out quickly. You made sure to take out his drone though, as it leaves them with one less camera to gain intel.

“One opfor remaining”

Then the next thing you see is Fuze being sent out of the objective room that he tried contesting the objective. Bandit had thrown a nitro cell across the room at the Russians feet, eliminating him.

“It’s just me and you again boyo, stay sharp” the British accent called out over the comms, reassuring you that you’ve got back up. 

“Yeah don’t worry, I’ll be o-”

“Hallo Mike, 1 on 1 time” you were rudely interrupted by Bandit who had managed to sneak around and get behind you, taking you out with a single bullet to the head.  
He sounds like he never takes these seriously, but that’s part of his personality that everyone loves.

“Fucking sick mate, man’s dead” you groaned out, exasperated. Training hasn’t been going incredibly well for you today.

“Fookin’ hell, spoke too soon” you heard the man chuckle out. You watched the drones that remained, trying to help Thatcher find Bandit’s location.

But it wasn’t long until they bumped into each other, and it became a mess of stray bullets, as they both tried to keep the other suppressed.

All Bandit had to do was wait the timer out, and they’d win. 

“15 seconds”

“To hell with it!”

Thatcher got out of cover and rushed towards Bandit. The German popped his head out of cover which proved to be a fatal mistake when up against this hardened veteran.

It was a close victory for your team, and a hard fought one too, which was the perfect way to wrap up the simulation.  
Everyone had gathered around in the pre-match lobby, talking to one another like usual.

Bandit came up to you and pulled you away from Fuze. Thatcher was busy talking to Maestro, Echo and Pulse.

“Once we’re out of here, come to my dorm, I have something I need to give you meine freunde”  
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but it was odd.

It only took a further 10 minutes until you found yourself in the Germans dorm, Marius was sprawled across one bed looking bored, fiddling about with a click pen.

You felt bad for flipping on Marius back at the pub a few days ago, but he understood, and there’s no unease around him. You’re still very good friends with the GSG9 operatives.

Bandit turned to face you, and signed to be quiet in case anyone was listening.  
“This was both of our idea...after the little incident. We thought it’d be a funny idea to get Mike a Father’s Day card, from the 3 of us”

There was nothing suspect, just a silly idea which sounds pretty funny.

“We thought we’d let you give it to him on the day...after hearing what’s happened, it’d only be right if it was you.” Marius was straight up and honest with you, which was respectable. But did they know you liked him? Is that why they want you to?

“Old man Baker has taken a liking to you, (Y/n). He knows your background better than anyone else here. I can tell that he’s working his ass off to get you through your hardships” this realisation slapped you, Bandit noticed it too? So they definitely knew?

They had already written the card and sealed it, so all they did was hand you a white envelope with Mike’s name written on it.

“Keep it a surprise from him if you can.”

All you could do was smile and thank them both, before heading back for the night.

##### 5 days later

To say the rest of the week had been good would be a complete and utter lie.

People looked at you funny, you’d catch them taking glances at you and trying to hide their stares. They’d whisper to others, they’d actively avoid you. 

It left you feeling terrible, wondering what you did wrong. 

It’s been just over a week since you made your move to Team Rainbow, and you were already regretting accepting Harry’s offer. You felt even more alone than you already did, save for Thatcher and three of the German’s operatives. 

You had already fallen out with many of the operators after they would constantly pester you and wouldn’t drop the questions that you didn’t feel comfortable answering. 

One instance you flipped the lid on Twitch and Dokkaebi. The French woman was still pissed at you for your comment on your first training simulation, and apparently the Korean ‘Attacker’, Grace, also thought that you were a complete arsehole too. She would take every opportunity she could to bump into you purposefully. Grace would constantly use her logic bomb device on you whenever you pulled out your phone to talk to your friends. She knew it, and it annoyed you being distanced further from your only friends. Every time you’d see them together, they’d act like immature school girls, whispering to each other whilst glancing at you. It set off your anxiety like crazy! So one day you walked over to them when they kept on bickering, asked what their problem is, whilst holding your phone, and next thing you know, Dokkaebi had slapped your phone out of your hands and watched it smash, completely ruining the LCD screen making it unusable, and continued to mock you. You felt even more alone from then. Eyeing up her tablet, you swiped it, dropped it on the floor and proceeded to strike down on it with a single chikyo chagi. Fast and heavy. It’s devastating, completely destroying the tablet. You simply walked away after giving them a firm fuck you. 

Then theres the physical altercation with Smoke. You told him that you didn’t blame him for his actions that night, and understood that he was drunk. But it turns out he’s a real cunt when he’s sober. 

He wouldn’t stop with the name calling, which didn’t entirely bother you. You’d just brush it off and continue on. Varying from simple things like “pussy” and “faggot”, but it further progressed to much worse, and even tried his hardest to embarrass you. 

He went on some sort of rant about how Mike doesn’t have time anymore, and doesn’t go to the pub every other day like he used to, which turned out to be a lie, after Mike himself confirmed that he didn’t frequent the pub nearly as often as his fellow squad mates. 

Though one day in the main hall, Smoke got cocky. It started off with the usual, being berated and ridiculed. Then when you told him in the exact words, “listen James, sorry I upset you at some point, but you need to grow up mate. I’ve got enough shit in my head going on and I don’t need someone to pile on their own crap.” 

To which his reply was “I’ll just have to smack the shit in your head out of you, ya wanker”. 

That sentence was then followed by a large shove and a sucker punch to the middle of your spine as you were walking away from him, trying to de-escalate the situation. 

You had had it then. Turning around immediately and attempting to strike him in the head with a high round house. Though he blocked it straight away, before swinging for you with a few hooks and jabs. 

Turns out he was a boxer, or trained to be. But he wasn’t as quick as you on his feet. It wasn’t a long fight, and you didn’t even want to start one to begin with, but in the end of it, you were defending yourself. You didn’t want to sit there and taking a beating like you used to when you were young. 

You grew past the days that you’d be too frightened to move away from your assailant. Be it the bullies of the school, older kids at the park, and both of your ‘parents’. 

You grew up, and took it upon yourself to build up the courage to fight back. You started to take self defence classes secretly when you were 6. It got to the point when the beatings you’d receive at home couldn’t get any worse even if you came home much later than you’re expected. If anything, it kept you away from them. 

You never did manage to fight back against your ‘mum’ and ‘dad’. You never would of stood a chance still until you would of gotten older. You wanted to unleash hell and beyond on them. You wanted to get back at your ‘mother’ for every time she would slap you, jab you with metal skewers, cut you with razors. You wanted to give your ‘dad’ what he deserved, for every single time he’d ball his fist and make contact with you. When he would hold you down and choke you, tie you up and leave you restrained to the bed, the radiators or the stair gate. You couldn’t move as both of them would torture you with different tools and instruments. You never managed to fight back. You couldn’t avenge your friend. You hoped that getting your ‘dad’ how he got poor little Callum would let you sleep at night without hearing his screams. You knew that every time you’d go to sleep, you’d hear him crying for you, crying for his mummy and his daddy, before those cries turned to gurgles and spluttering. His parents loved him, and you let them down. You felt lost after the murder-suicide attempt. Your survival. Their downfall. 

But you continued to train, years and years until you reached the age of 19, where you earned the highest ranking in the class. You had tricks up your sleeve, and you wanted to use them. 

Smoke got a few good hits on you, but they weren’t going to faze you. A secret anger had brewed inside you, and you were ready to let out a little bit of the demon inside you out. Bringing it to and end with an extremely quick combination of palm jabs and kicks, and ultimately finishing with your favourite, and some-what flashy, 720 quadruple kick. Considered flashy because you’d never be able to use it during the middle of an actual fight, but you had left the black haired SAS operative stunned after the lightning fast barrage, so you brought him to the floor with one final blow for him to remember. You took that as your leave and hid away in the dorms, laying awake on your bed for hours. 

Mike came and questioned you about the incident, that he heard from James first. Though he eventually believed you after proving you were the innocent one in this situation, the bruises to the ribs and back showing to be sufficient enough evidence. Considering that Mike knew James better than anyone else, he could tell that the bruises on your back came from one of his punches, and also taking into consideration how he fights, deemed that any shot to your back would have been before hand, which concludes that James instigated it, and got what was deserved.

But since then, you’ve been quiet, tried avoiding everyone else and just shut yourself out from everyone else, besides the older man who you lived with. He would always come in at night to find you asleep on the sofa or in bed. He never turned his back on you and still looked out for you, keeping you safe as he said he would.

The nightmares got worse over the nights but you never told Thatcher, and you assumed he didn’t know. Springing awake in a cold sweat and breathing heavily, but as quietly as you could. Always mindful of the older man. You didn’t want him to get out of his bed to check on you.

But one night when you woke up from a nightmare you found him sat on your mattress, stroking your head whilst telling you “it’s okay...he’s in a better place now, you’re going to be fine.” Taking a guess, you must of been screaming for your friend out loud, the nightmare being the same as always. Those bloodcurdling cries of pain and death, the sound of a young boy choking on his own blood as you watched and cried, unable to help.

He soon returned to his bed though, once you calmed down and resumed sleeping.

———

Today was bad. You didn’t want to do anything, you didn’t want to interact with anyone, and you had no intention of wandering any further than the living room. Something inside you just shut you off, and you felt like giving up.

It felt like you had be struck down, and couldn’t get back up. You know that anything today would push you over the edge already, and leave you a blubbering mess of tears and choked cries.

Mike would be in and out every so often, either picking something up or dropping it off, checking on you every time. The odd occasion it would be just to ask you how you’re doing, and you’d answer the same every time.

“Im fine, don’t worry about me.”

Though you weren’t. You wanted someone to be there for you.

The entire day you spent sitting around, with your music playing through the wireless speaker.  
It was mostly sad songs, as that was your mood for the day. You would always listen to certain music depending on your mood.

You looked to the clock to see that it was almost 10:30 pm.

“What am I fucking doing wasting my time...”  
You thought.

Getting up off of the sofa, you walked to the window in the room, and looked out to the fields. You could see a road far off in the distance, headlights shining dimly as they pass through the trees.

Then that one song came on. The one you always hum when you concentrate.  
But you thought “whatever, I can sing along to it, I’m alone.”

But you weren’t alone. Cue the song, during the intro you didn’t notice the front door being unlocked as a tall, bearded man entered.

“Lately I've been hard to reach  
I've been too long on my own  
Everybody has a private world  
Where they can be alone  
Are you calling me, are you trying to get through  
Are you reaching out for me, and I'm reaching out for you...”

The intro passes, and you almost laugh at yourself as you think how funny it is that one of your favourite songs by Eminem was so emotional to you, and how you just always felt like you connect to the lyrics. But the realisation at that hurts.

“I'm just so fuckin' depressed  
I just can't seem to get out this slump  
If I could just get over this hump  
But I need something to pull me out this dump”

Still you haven’t noticed the figure behind you, stood in silence, listening.

“I took my bruises, took my lumps  
Fell down and I got right back up  
But I need that spark to get psyched back up  
In order for me to pick that mic back up”

You just stared off into the darkness, not looking at anything in particular anymore, but you didn’t move, the cool breeze that came through felt refreshing.

“I don't know how or why or when  
And I ended up in this position I'm in  
I starting to feel distant again  
So I decided just to pick this pen  
Up and tried to make an attempt to vent, but I just can't admit  
Or come to grips, with the fact that  
I may be done with rap, I need a new outlet  
I know some shits so hard to swallow  
And I just can't sit back and wallow  
In my own sorrow, but I know one fact  
I'll be one tough act to follow  
One tough act to follow, copy, one tough act to follow  
Here today, gone tomorrow  
But you have to walk a thousand miles”

Thatcher has heard this song a thousand and one times, having to stick out a month long mission with Lion, and only the Frenchman brought his personal MP3 with him to listen to music. Thatcher one day insisted he just play it out loud and stop being antisocial. Though his taste wasn’t exactly what Thatcher typically enjoys, it grew on him, and Beautiful, by Eminem would be played at least 5 times a day. It got to a point when Mike would hear it come on and immediately start humming or whistling along, and even singing along with it as it got drilled into his head. It was a rather good distraction from any other kind of thoughts he could of been having.

Before the mission, they once had an altercation, and a lot of people still assume that they both hate each other’s guts to this day. But in that one month, they both learnt a lot about each other, and came to respect one another.

Mike got a good insight to Olivier’s upbringing, and understood where his anger came from. It wasn’t ever directed at Mike himself, or any of the other operators. It was anger that was supposed to be directed at his parents and friends. But he never had any control over his emotions and let his mouth run the show, causing those around him to dislike him. A lot like you. Though you admittedly had a much worse upbringing, and Mike saw why you’d act up so much. The experiences you wished to never have had to live through instilled some odd quirks into your personality.

Mike took this opportunity to speak up and make his presence known, but not in a way you expected him to.

“In my shoes, just to see  
What it'd be like, to be me  
I'll be you, let's trade shoes  
Just to see what I'd be like to  
Feel your pain, you feel mine  
Go inside each other's mind  
Just to see what we find  
Look at shit through each other's eyes.  
But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you so  
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you so”

The older man broke out in song, to your surprise knowing every lyric, word for word.  
It was yet another thing that left your mouth ajar as you struggled for words.  
But when you didn’t know what to say, your mind spoke for you, in the sense of carrying on with the song.

“I think I'm starting to lose my sense of humor  
Everything is so tense and gloom  
I almost feel like I gotta check the temperature in the room  
Just as soon as I walk in  
It's like all eyes on me, so I try to avoid any eye contact  
Cause if I do that then it opens a door to conversation, like I want that”

You made eye contact with the hirsute man, but it wasn’t for long. Returning to gaze out the window, leaning on the sill as you enjoyed the breeze that cooled your skin.

“I'm not looking for extra attention  
I just want to be just like you  
Blend in with the rest of the room  
Maybe just point me to the closest restroom  
I don't need no fucking manservant  
Follow me around, and wiping my ass  
Laugh at every single joke I crack  
And half of 'em ain't even funny like  
Haha Marshall, you're so funny man, you should be a comedian, god damn  
Unfortunately I am, but I just hide behind the tears of a clown  
So why don't you all sit down  
Listen to the tale I'm about to tell  
Hell, we don't have to trade our shoes  
And you don't have to walk no thousand miles”

Mike slowly walked over to you, though didn’t make any contact. But you knew when he was close, his presence was warm and welcoming as always. It’s like you could feel it every time he was near.

“In my shoes, just to see  
What it's be like, to be me  
I'll be you, let's trade shoes  
Just to see what I'd be like to  
Feel your pain, you feel mine  
Go inside each other's mind  
Just to see what we find  
Look at shit through each other's eyes  
But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you so so  
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked. Just stay true to you”

A tiny part of you wanted to laugh when ever Mike said fuck, his slight accent really shows on the F word that you once took the piss out of. You loved his voice though. His powerful, smooth, deep and calm voice was heavenly to you.

“Nobody asked for life to deal us  
With these bullshit hands we're dealt  
We gotta take these cards ourselves  
Flip them, don't expect no help, now I could have either just  
Sat on my ass and pissed and moaned  
But take this situation in which I'm placed in  
And get up and get my own, I was never the type of kid  
To wait but I know to unpack his bags  
Never sat on the porch and hoped and prayed  
For a dad to show up who never did”

This song spoke volumes to you, and strikes a chord inside every time you’d listen to it.  
But whilst you stood, blankly following the nothingness outside with something akin to the thousand-yard stare, you failed to notice warm arms either side of you, and large, calloused hands resting atop of the same window sill that you lean on.  
His body ever so close, mere centimetres away from being pressed right up against your back.

“I just wanted to fit in, every single place, every school I went  
I dreamed of being that cool kid  
Even if it meant acting stupid, Aunt Edna always told me  
Keep making that face till it gets stuck like that  
Meanwhile I'm just standing there  
Holding my tongue up trying to talk like this  
Till I stuck my tongue on the frozen stop sign pole at eight years old  
I learned my lesson and cause I wasn't tryin to impress my friends no more  
But I already told you my whole life story  
Not just based on my description  
Cause where you see it from where you're sitting  
Is probably a hundred and ten percent different  
I guess we would have to walk a mile  
In each other's shoes, at least  
What size you where? I wear tens  
Let's see if you can fit your feet”

Those arms either side of you slowly encompassed you in a gentle embrace. You couldn’t keep singing along, the sudden feeling of being held still and powerless was terrifying to you.  
But the older man made sure he held on to you, as he leaned in and sang along in a hushed tone.

“In my shoes, just to see  
What it'd be like, to be me  
I'll be you, let's trade shoes  
Just to see what I'd be like to  
Feel your pain, you feel mine  
Go inside each other's mind  
Just to see what we find  
Look at shit through each other's eyes  
But don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you so  
Don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful oh  
They can all get fucked, just stay true to you so...”

All you could think in your head is panic, the unexpected feeling of the older man’s beard brushing against your cheek as he leaned in over your shoulder, pressing his entire body against you.  
Then the slightest murmur escaped your lips as you silently cried for help.

“Please don’t hurt me...I don’t want to hurt anymore” all of these repressed memories that you tried so hard to hide came out.  
The tears in your eyes began to fall and you felt scared. You closed your eyes tight, only to be faced with the nightmares that you were subjected to for years. Cowering in fear of what was to come, screaming, “Don’t hurt me daddy...stop it! Let me go!”

But Thatcher refused to let go of you. Pulling you away from the window and turning you around, those arms of his came back to hold you tightly to him, as he whispered to you.

“I won’t hurt you (Y/n), never.” 

 

“Don’t hurt me..” your tears flooded out, but you held back the want to verbally cry.

Mike’s left hand found your short, scruffy hair and stroked it gently, pulling your face to his chest, his right arm holding on to you tightly as he rubbed circles on your back.

“I promise you I won’t ever hurt ya. You can let it out sweetheart, you can let it all out. I know you need to” and that’s all it took from Thatcher as he softly cooed out to you.  
Those butterflies came back, like never before. Your entire body tingled all over as the older man held you in what is essentially your first hug.  
All 21 years of agony and depression came spilling out uncontrollably. Salty tears soaked the olive green wool jumper that the SAS veteran wore.  
Your cries of pain muffled, and your fear of being held in place without escape slowly faded. You wanted to be held.

You didn’t want Mike to ever let go of you. You felt like you could stand here for the rest of the night.  
But only moments later was the floor taken from your feet and your red, puffy eyes met with loving, half lidded green orbs. It was incredible that this man had you in his arms with ease.

Thatcher carried you to the sofa and sat down, carefully lowering you on to his lap, where he could keep hold of you.  
A single, gentle thumb wiped away the tears under your eyes before his palm came to cup your cheek.

All you could do is tremble, and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down and stop crying.  
“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’m here, I’m here...you’ll be okay, I’ve got ya, daddy’s got ya...”

That last part had you choking on air as you tried to speak, stammering hard, “d…d…d-d-da-daddy?”

You couldn’t help but start crying again as Mike caressed your cheek softly.  
As the tears started pouring, you buried yourself into the man, wanting more and more contact by the second. Again, his hand came to the back of your head, holding you to him.

For 10 minutes you sat in in his lap, letting your emotions flow without a care.  
Thatcher’s free hand found its way to your smaller, trembling fist. Carefully prying your hand open to slip his fingers between yours.

“Can I ask you a question sweetheart?” The Veteran asked. His eyes lovingly gazed into you.

You looked at him oddly, “Sweetheart is a new one...I like that” you thought. Through the sniffles and heavy breaths, you managed to murmur out a response in approval.

“Why did you risk your life during the terrorist attack in February?” You didn’t think he’d ask this kind of question, and it threw you off. That attack, the reason you’re now here.  
The one question you never wanted to be asked, because you know there’s no way you could lie through it, and you didn’t want to answer with the truth because it scared you. But this is Mike, you had to answer him, your bottom lip trembled as you built up the courage to answer the man truthfully.

“I…” Silence. You don’t know how to word it. The air went cold and dense, you felt like you were choking. “I wanted to end it. I didn’t want to live any longer.” It went eerily quiet. The depressed tone was extremely prominent in the moment.

A sigh escaped the older man’s lips as he looked to you with sorrowful eyes. “Fookin’ hell boyo...why would you want to? It’s not worth it (Y/n)” Thatcher felt it too.

Then your temper flared, thinking that the man who held you in his arms didn’t understand you. You really wanted to protest and tell him you don’t want to say anything. But your subconscious was taking over, and it was ready to tell the older man everything that you felt. Everything that you’ve dealt with.

“Because I’m a fucking coward and a failure, Mike! I couldn’t ever bring myself to end my own life, and yet after all that, I still fucking lived! It’s…it’s like the world wants me to suffer, but I didn’t do anything wrong! I don’t want to hurt anymore but I can’t fucking escape it” This was just the start of the whole outpour.

“I didn’t ask to be born to two psychopaths who’d torture me every single fucking day. I wouldn’t sleep because I’d be in pain. They’d feed me to keep me alive for their own sake, so they could keep beating me, cut me up, do what ever the fuck it is that they did! I didn’t ask to watch my friend die in front of me when I was a kid! I didn’t ask to be restrained, and thrown into a car and survive a head on crash that was supposed to kill all of us!” That’s a little something that the older man didn’t know. The murder-suicide attempt, made to look like a car accident. The older man could only listen in and stare at your pained face as you rambled on and on.

“I didn’t ask for all the torment I would get at the schools I went to because I didn’t have any parents, or family! I never told anyone what I’ve been through because it hurts to talk about it, and I was scared. I was off the radar and never put into some sort of fucking home...no, I had to live in the house where I was tortured. I was alone. I was scared. I had to fucking grow up quickly. Kids didn’t like me because I was scared of them, I was scared of almost everyone. I didn’t know how to interact with people. I’ve lost more friends than I’ve made and I left the very few that I care about without saying a single fucking thing. I fucking fought the system when I was old enough and taught myself, from that I got all of this fucking money but it doesn’t make me happy. Nothing makes me happy. I try to be, so people don’t look at me funny like they always do. But no one knows me, no one knows where I am...I-I-I-I can’t stand it. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Or why I accepted the offer! I’m not prepared for this, I’m not trained for it! I’m not mentally right in the fucking head Mike, I’m so bloody messed up it makes no sense how I was even considered to be right for this kind of job. I don’t fit in here, I shouldn’t be here, no one knows me, my friends don’t know me, you don’t know me, I don’t know me!” By this time you were up and out of the older man’s grasp, pacing around frantically as your mood kept changing. Hyperventilating and unable to keep still, quickly tiring yourself out.

You were angry, sad, happy, excited, scared. It kept on changing. Everything felt numb and the world around you spun faster and faster, making you dizzy.

You walked over to the kitchen, and opened a draw, where you hid the envelope that Dom and Marius gave you a few days ago.

“It’s for you by the way. Marius and Dom did it, thought it’d be a funny joke. I’m going to bed, and for the first ever time in my life I’m going to pray. With luck, I won’t wake up, but I guess I’ll have to find out the hard way in the morning”  
Throwing your hands in the air, exasperated. You were fed up, and emotionally drained.  
You threw the envelope at Thatcher like a frisbee, which he caught with ease. His careful eyes slowly watched you disappear into the bedroom, the door closing behind.

The older operative sat in shock, he already knew some of the details, he thought that you may have been suicidal, but in the week he got to know you, nothing seemed to tick the boxes he looked for in suicidal tendencies. You were good at hiding them, but you finally reached your limit and exploded. Thatcher was worried about you. He looked to the paper in his hand, his name neatly written in the middle.

With a careful pinch, he opened the envelope to find a card in it.

‘To the greatest dad in the world on Father’s Day’

The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile, the novelty of it was rather funny to the man, reminding himself of all the times he’d joke about being the ‘dad’ of the team.

Opening it up was different though. Being told that Bandit and Jäger did this as a joke he assumed that it would be something stupid. It was clearly written by Dominic, but there wasn’t any mention of his name, or Marius’.

“Dear Mike, thank you for taking me in under your wing and working effortlessly for this entire week. I know it must be extremely hard for you to have all of this shit piled up on you, and it must be taking a toll on you.  
But I want to take this time to tell you how much you mean to me already, and that I don’t know how I would cope without you, helping me every step of the way on my road to recovery. You’re the greatest thing to happen to me and I wouldn’t want any other man in my life other than you.  
I love you so much Mike.  
From, (Y/n).”  
He read through it more than once, the writing unmistakably belonged to the German.  
But even so, Thatcher appreciated it, a lot. Even if you didn’t have anything to do with it. It was something that Mike felt you would tell him, because he can tell that you appreciate him, and everything he does. He can tell that you want to say to him, ‘I love you’. But he can see that you didn’t have any sort of motive to do so. Knowing that you were going to hold off when it comes to admitting these feelings.

Thatcher couldn’t sit around any longer. He was up like a shot and making his way to the bedroom, hoping to catch you before you got into bed. Now was the time Mike would make his move, and get you to completely open up to him, because you needed him more than ever right now.

Almost bursting through the door unexpectedly, you jumped, barely clothed with just your boxer shorts on. You turned to meet Thatcher’s intense stare, the card in his hand. You thought it pissed him off, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do.

But within a moments notice he was merely inches apart, his spare hand once again coming to your cheek, and his lips pressed forward onto your own, your eyes widened in shock at the sudden advancement that Thatcher made.  
He didn’t push to get in, just gently placed a long kiss on you, his beard ever so slightly tickled.  
You reached up carefully with shaky hands, fingers brushing against the fur that covered his face, it was soft, and to you it was comforting, stroking his beard whilst he kisses you passionately.

Soon his hand left your cheek and found its way around your hips, pulling you in to his warm body, grinding against his hardening appendage. It was a feeling you never wanted to forget. It made you go completely blank, almost like that outburst just a minute ago never happened.

Minutes later and Thatcher parted from you. Your cheeks were bright red and the older man couldn’t help but smile when he noticed your arousal.

“Let’s get ya into bed, sweet. Must be cold eh?”  
Your eyes were fixated on the man as you watched him undress. First watching him pull his sweatshirt off, before getting to work on his shirt, bringing it over his head carefully, revealing that manly, hairy chest of his. Your eyes fell onto the sculpted, yet slightly pudgy body of the older man.  
Then his hands wandered to the belt that held his trousers up, carefully undoing the buckle on the leather strap, before slowly stepping out of the dark blue denim.

The gawking began as you stared at the bulge that filled Mike’s own boxer shorts. You could see a few spots that looked darker than the rest of the underwear. The biggest wet spot was right where the tip of his thick member was resting.  
Snapping out of your trance, you looked up into the eyes of the British operative who stared back with a seductive glare.

The new warmth that you already craved came back, finding yourself in his grasp. His furry body was warm to the touch and soft just like his beard. His hands clutched onto your rear, squeezing your plump flesh lovingly, pulling you in and grinding his bulge against yours, the wet patch in his boxers getting bigger.

Without realising, Thatcher had grabbed the band of your underwear, and had pulled them down, it was only when he instructed you to help get them off that you noticed.  
Then you found yourself being walked to the edge of Mike’s bed whilst in his arms, your legs moving without thought. Again the older man picked you up without a struggle, placing you on his bed and reaching over to turn the small bedside lamp on.

This was all so surreal to you, watching the almost naked man walk to the bedroom door and turn the main lights off.  
He slowly paced back across the room and to the side of the bed that you were placed, before carefully removing his own underwear, completely exposing himself to you.

Those wet patches courtesy of the incredible amount of pre-cum that the man was producing. His semi erect cock was a marvel to stare at, still sheathed in foreskin, the tip barely peeking out. Your thoughts of bad intentions disappeared as your imagination ran wild, thinking of all the things this man could possibly do to you.  
Your sorrow and misery was forgotten about in this second, as you lovingly studied the man in front of you.

He was a bear of a man, well kept but unshaven. Everything was neat, tidy and clean.  
He was 10 times the man you were.  
Bigger, broader, musclier, hairier, sexier.  
He was composed and gentle, but terrifying when angry.  
You were an emotional wreck with little control and no sense of self ability.  
But all you could do whilst this hirsute man gently climbed on top of you, was lay still almost confused. His hands either side of your head, and his knees planted either side of your thighs, his big, low hanging balls resting against yours, his twitching semi erect dick slowly oozing with juice whilst it pressed up against your rock hard erection, his stomach and chest pressed against yours and his lips parted, only inches away, it was incredible.  
You felt warm and safe again.

But before you could say or do anything, Thatcher spoke up.  
“Thank you for the card, (Y/n). I absolutely fookin’ love you too!”

He reciprocated the love you gave him without you even saying those three words yourself.  
“So they did know...what did they write?” you thought again.

“I have a very important question to ask you before I go any further, (Y/n).”

Your eyes never lost contact with his, and all you could do was blink as you mumbled out to him.  
“Mhmm?”  
It was quiet, But Thatcher heard you loud and clear.

“This regards you and me, no one else.” You understood, staring into his soul. “Do you want me to be your dad? Or your daddy?”  
You almost wanted to laugh, the ridiculousness of it was too much. But you caught on by what he meant because your emotions fought with each other as they figured out the meaning before you did.

Did you want JUST a father figure in your life? Or give into these daddy issues of yours, and end up with a man who will show you the deepest form of love that only another man can?  
You umm’d and ahh’d at the question, but finally gave in to your hearts desires, and made what is the best choice for you.

Your teeth chattered and your heart raced as you began to form the words in your mouth, finally getting the answer out there to the man.

“D-daddy...” it came out quietly, and you felt sheepish when you finally spat it out.

But all you saw from then was a glint in the older man’s deep green eyes and the widest grin imaginable, before his soft beard was rubbing up against your face and his sweet, plump lips connected with yours as he hungrily kissed you breathless.

His groin rubbing up against your quickly hardening member, as he rolled his hips in a steady rhythm.

“Good answer, boyo.” That made you shudder in excitement, getting the man’s approval.

Then came the awkwardness of your first real kiss. You could feel he wanted in, but was subtle with it and gently played with your lips. It took a couple minutes before you realised that he wanted to explore deeper with his tongue, and you eventually parted your lips to let him in.  
You soon figured out what to do, as your tongue met his and seemed to slow dance inside of the wet cavern that is your mouth.

The kiss broke apart after a few minutes, both taking the small break to catch your breaths.

“Fook I could bloody snog ya all day and night, babe!” That really turned you on.  
But you were still a little timid, and you found yourself bringing a careful hand up to Thatcher’s cotton-soft beard, stroking it ever so carefully, feeling every silky smooth hair between your small fingers, before it came to tickle your nose as he closed the gap once more, taking your lips in his for yet another passionate kiss.

Over time you got a little brave, gaining more courage to move your hands up to the warm body on top of you, running your hands up and down the man’s torso and chest, the feeling was therapeutic to you. You silently begged the man for more and more, too, becoming hungry for his touch.

Thatcher wrapped his arms around you tightly, turning over in the bed and pulling you on top of him. His hands started exploring your body, rubbing your chest, your thighs, your rear. His big fingers gently toyed with your sensitive nipples.

Mike pushed you up slightly, making you sit on his lap, your legs either side of his waist. You could feel his thick cock rubbing up against your cheeks, and a devilish grin rested across his handsome features.

“Bloody handsome bugger aren’t ya, (Y/n).” His sweet talking was working wonders on your mind, filling you with confidence.  
“Are ya comfortable, boy? I don’t want to scare ya too much.” You couldn’t help but smile and nod at the man, before moving your head down to meet him.  
Thatcher knew what you wanted, so lifted his head slightly, lips coming together again for yet another kiss. Sweet and short.

“What you need right now, boyo, is a big, long cuddle with your daddy. So get yerself comfy and snuggle down lad” this snuggling that Thatcher talked of sounded wonderful, but truthfully, you don’t know what snuggling is. You’ve never cuddled with someone before, but you thought it’d be stupid to ask what it meant to snuggle.  
But of course, the hirsute man read your mind as your hesitation asked the question you felt too embarrassed to ask.

“I guess not knowing what it means to ‘snuggle down’ doesn’t help...”  
The feeling of gruff hands firmly holding you under your arms in an attempt to move you.  
“Here, come lay beside me, I’ll show ya.”

The older man let one hand glide down your body before patting the empty space to the left of him. You understood what he asked of you and slowly climbed off of the man, and laying in silently in the spot, unsure of what’s to come now.

“Right, so, (Y/n). Snuggling. Just think of me as a nice, warm pillow for ya to rest on. I recommend placing your head right here.”  
You felt his arm slither underneath you and wrap around, pulling you in as he rubbed and pat an area on his chest, so you placed your head on him, listening to his heartbeat. Soon enough you understood what it was, and you were curled up into the man, snuggled into his nook. Both of his strong, comforting arms came around to hold you tightly, his hands and fingers rubbing circles on you. It was the most soothing this you’ve ever experienced.

“Good thing about getting old, I’m not entirely rock solid...well, upper body wise” the man chuckled deeply, and you also understood what he meant by both statements. You looked down to see his thick, uncut cock completely erect. But his mostly toned chest was comfortable to lay your head on. The slight pudginess made for the perfect pillow. He didn’t have a six pack or look incredibly ripped, if anything, he had a stereotypical dad-bod.  
Yet you could tell he was well built, and he took pride in his physique. To you, it was perfect.

He was everything you craved in a man, for as long as you could remember. When you first discovered porn, and you figured out your sexuality.  
Would you call it a kink? You much preferred hairy men to smooth and shaven. You liked beards more than no beards. You preferred the ‘big’ guys, not the ripped and insanely muscled ones with rock hard bodies. Is it a kinky thing? But why you were debating that with yourself you don’t know. You’re snuggled up with the man of your dreams.

Soft...warm...loved. Relaxed.  
Horny.  
You didn’t know what to do right this second. You wanted to relieve yourself, and make Thatcher happy, but you felt your eyes become heavy and the dimly lit room slowly blurred. You had exhausted yourself earlier and the rush of your first kiss slowly dissipated as you became more and more contempt in the older operators arms.

That soothing heartbeat of his, ever so steady and soothing. The little trails he would leave with his fingers. A kiss on the forehead every so often and a squeeze of your plump behind.

Thatcher wanted you, badly, but he was happy to hold and protect you as you sleep, rather than ravage you and make you scream. But he had to tell you that he wants you.

“I want to make you mine, (Y/n).” This came out as an almost primal growl.

“I am yours, daddy” the reply came out at an almost inaudible level.

“Hmm? Who do you belong to? I’m not sure I heard.” Thatcher was just starting the teasing.

You looked up to him with wide eyes before barely forcing a tiny smile, “Daddy!” This time slightly louder.

That devilish smirk returned to the older man’s face, and gentle fingers carefully gripped your chin, turning your head towards his, before sweet lips and teeth clashed for another hungry kiss.

“I’m your daddy eh, sweetheart?” He asked the question even though he knows the answer.  
All you manage to put out was a grunt, burying your head back into the man’s chest before closing your eyes.

“Tired babe?” But he got no response from you this time. You were slowly slipping back into the world of sleep.

Thatcher took his right hand and slowly caressed your body, running his gentle fingers over every bit of untouched skin. Then a small touch made you jump, the sudden feeling causing your hairs to stand.

“Surely you can’t sleep with such a hard-on. You must be pent up.” The veterans expert hand had grasped a hold of your erection, toying with you.  
Softly rubbing your shaft, his thumb brushing over the head, using his pinky finger to squeeze the base of your cock with every upstroke like he was carefully milking you of the little bit of pre-cum that you produce.

You could feel your cheeks burn up as he began working his magic on your member.  
You got the sudden urge to feel him, you wanted to know what it felt like to hold someone else’s cock. You took your time, making sure to feel his body up and down, running your fingers between every strand of hair on his chest, sliding down to his belly, and eventually his inner thigh. Your fingertips mere millimeters away from his big, meaty shaft.

“Don’t be afraid to touch it, he won’t bite! Might spit at ya, but only when he’s ‘very’ excited” The way Thatcher spoke also got you very excited. Finally you took the plunge and wrapped your small, skinny fingers around his throbbing cock. Fascinated at the amount of pre-cum that seemed to leak endlessly from the SAS operatives slit.

It fit in your hand like a dream, it felt incredible to hold and invitingly warm. There was so much you wanted to do, but where to start. One thing you learnt from all the porn you watched was that sex would be very rough, and you were scared. You didn’t like the idea of being on your hands and knees, being rammed into and slapped.  
But you would do it for Mike, and you wanted him to do it to you.

You carefully lifted yourself up and leaned over the hirsute body. Your eyes fixated on the prize.  
All the while, Thatcher examined your movements, watching you position yourself lower down, on your knees, trembling ever so slightly.

“Don’t be scared boy, you’ll be alright. Go on, suck my cock, sweet.” He was trying to coax you on, encouraging you calmly.

You would try and mimic Mike’s movement with your own hand, rolling back the man’s foreskin, fully revealing his big, bulbous and slick cock head. Slowly leaning in eagerly.

“You really know how to handle a man’s dick don’t ya, sweetheart?” He wasn’t slowing down with the encouragement.  
Soon after, you found your lips to be hovering over Mike’s thick meat.

The smell of man musk and expensive cologne mixed together was intoxicating, and you let your tongue come to contact with the older man’s twitching rod.  
Then your lips covered the head, before you slowly started taking his warm length in.  
It had a weird taste, but it got better as you sucked on the man’s cock. It was salty, very slightly sweet. Always wet with pre-cum.  
You’d find yourself lapping it up like your life depended on it.

A deep growl escaped the fuzzy lips of the Brit, and you went deeper as you knew that you were pleasing him.

“Do ya like how daddy tastes, sweetheart?”  
It was a question that you wondered how to answer.  
Sliding Mike’s cock deeper into your mouth, you hummed an answer to the question, which sent vibrations all through the veterans throbbing shaft. He shuddered in pleasure and moaned, you felt more of his warm juice leak on to your tongue. This prompted you to try and take the man deeper and deeper, but you ended up choking, trying to force his entire length down your throat. But a gentle and wrinkled hand soon stopped you from going further, and you looked up with puppy dog eyes into loving, green orbs, your lips still wrapped around Thatcher’s manhood.

“Don’t push yourself too far babe, you’re new to this...” your tongue mindlessly licked at his head, flicking his frenulum would get you an immediate response from him in the form of deep, low growls and moans. “C’mon, I’ve got an idea. Let me do the work tonight, I’ll be as gentle and slow as I can.”  
The idea of the older man taking complete control would usually set your anxiety through the roof and start a nervous breakdown, but in this moment, with that man, you couldn’t care less. You were a novice at this all, never having experienced any sort of sexual activity with anyone else. Next thing you knew, you were laid back down in the bed, missing a cock from your mouth. But Thatcher placed a few pillows underneath you, which kept your upper body supported in an upright position.  
Then the larger hirsute man was suddenly straddling you, on his knees that were either side of you. Positioned in such a way that he had your head between his thighs.

Staring straight at the erection in front of you, you went to lean in and suck it, but a hand came up to keep you pinned.

“You just lay there, I’ll do the work babe” the hand that held you back came to rest on your cheek, stroking you carefully.  
Then he pushed his hips forward ever so slightly, the tip of his dick at your lips, wanting to get in.

You opened your mouth slightly to let him in, and Mike pushed in further, sliding his shaft deep in the slick cavern.  
He was gentle, making sure he didn’t thrust in too deep and make you choke. You wondered how you would fit the entirety of his length in your mouth. He was thick too, you had to stretch your jaw a considerable amount to fit him in already.

“Go on, atta boy, get it nice and wet for daddy.” Did Thatcher like being called daddy that much you wonder. It was an almost endless concert of moaning and groaning. You’d keep humming as you sucked the man’s cock, causing little vibrations to massage his sensitive appendage.

He kept rocking back and forth, sliding his cock in as far as you can take it without choking, never going past that point.

“God, (Y/n), you’re fookin’ beautiful. Do you want me deep inside ya, boyo?” Shying away is tough to do when you’ve got a cock deep in your throat and your nose is buried in the man’s bush of hair that surrounds his not-so-private area. But you broke eye contact as you blushed at the compliment, feeling your heart rate rise.  
Did you want him to penetrate you, and take your innocent virginity?  
It’s a tough question to answer. You felt confident in the moment, but you weren’t sure if you’re prepared for him.  
You know it’ll hurt, especially with his size.  
He hasn’t even slipped a finger inside your tight hole and stretched you out to fit him.

Part of you wanted to say you’re not ready yet, and that you’re a bit scared. Another part screamed “please fuck me daddy.”  
Thatcher could sense the concern, and laid out an offer for you as he withdrew himself from your mouth.

“First time, I know. You’re uncertain, and that’s okay babe. I’ll be happy to go at your pace, be it I take you another night, I’m okay with it” it really made you think twice about your answer, but you still really wanted to please the man, you wanted him to take you. You wanted to be his.

Wondering with lingered lips, you struggled to answer, but after mentally slapping yourself you spat it out.

“I need you, Mike…f-f-fuck me, please!” It came out as a whimper, but you were begging for him.

Thatcher had repositioned himself once again, giving you a kiss before laying on his back.

“Kneel over me, boy” the veteran ordered you, bringing two of his fingers up to your lips, gently playing with them.

“Suck.”

No hesitation you took his fingers into your mouth and got them nice and wet. Thatcher withdrew them moments later. His free hand grasping his cock.

“Gotta keep it nice and wet for me, boy, it’ll make slipping in a lot easier.”  
You leant over his crotch and took his shaft in your mouth once again. Using your tongue to lick up and down.

Then you felt cold, wet fingers prodding your rear, the older man spoke up,  
“Relax for me, (Y/n). It’ll help a lot, sweet, trust me.”

Though you already felt somewhat relaxed, you nodded slightly to let Thatcher know that you acknowledged his command.

One cold, wet finger was slowly pushing it way inside your hole. It was a weird feeling to start with, almost uncomfortable, and slightly painful. But Mike took his time, not forcing his finger all the way in yet, but moving it about trying to stretch you out as you relaxed to accommodate the foreign feeling in your rear. Then he pushed further again, getting deeper. It was uncomfortable and you made it known by the sounds you made. Your muscles tightening around the thick, wet finger.

“Shhhh shhh shhh, relax for me, sweetheart. You’ve got to trust me, relax your muscles and it’ll feel good. It gets better” he was an expert at sweet talking and coercive chat.  
It felt odd, and part of you wanted him to get his finger out and stop. But you trusted him with your life, so you did what you could to relax, and let him work his magic.

Soon enough he was deep in to his knuckle, he would slowly slide it in and out, and stretch you open for him.  
Then something made you moan out extremely loud, uncontrollably. It felt like a million volts of pure pleasure shot through your body.

Thatcher knew what he had brushed against, and went back to do it again.  
Every time he’d purposely tickle your prostate, causing you to moan every time. Every moan sent vibrations down his cock as you carried on sucking him off.

Mike soon started to withdraw his finger, but only for a very short time.  
Now trying for two fingers, having to accommodate for the extra size, the pain returned and you instinctively clenched up.  
Yet again, the older, more experienced man called out for you in a hushed tone, and you were soon relaxing your muscles as he worked both of his fingers inside your anal cavity.

The pain slowly subsided and again, he was back at that spot inside you, knuckles deep. Making you shudder and whine out. He really knew how to get you to moan, and that’s just with two of his fingers.

“Alright, that should do it boy. Make sure my cock is nice and wet, I don’t want this to hurt you” he was reassuring with his words, and when he took his fingers out, you felt empty.

The hirsute man had gotten on his knees, and got to arranging some pillows for your support.

“On yer back, son, I want to see your face when I take you”

You wondered how it would work, and thought it’d be rather uncomfortable, but you obliged, and laid back as the SAS operative got between your legs. Carefully lifting your legs up and resting them on his broad shoulders.  
Thatcher took a hold of his cock from the base, squeezing as he stroked upwards. You watched his pre-cum mix with your saliva, and soon he spat some of his own spit onto his girth. His thumb came over the top of his meaty cock head, taking a gentle grasp of his member, smearing the mixture of spit and manly juices up and down his length.

His body pressed up against yours, every strand of hair tickled, but it’s soft and warm, and extremely comforting to you.

“Relax for me sweetie” 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt, Mike”

“You’ll be alright, boy. I’ll be gentle, I promise”

Hungry lips found their place on yours, distracting you from the bidding intruder, prodding at your entrance.  
You could feel the slick tip of his cock gently poking you, pushing in ever so slowly.  
You could feel your hole being stretched as Mike’s head was slowly engulfed by your tight ring of muscle.

“Jesus fookin’ Christ (Y/n), your arse is bloody tight”

Thatcher kept on pushing, making you seethe in pain as your inner walls felt like they’re being ripped apart. A sharp pain searing though your lower region, and your cries for the pain to stop became muffled as Thatcher came in to kiss you once again. Breaking apart for him to calm you down with a gentle hand and soothing words.

“You’ll be okay, the pain will go soon, don’tcha worry babe. I’m being as gentle as I can. It’ll feel good very soon” he wasn’t lying either. He was as gentle as can be. This being your first time, it’ll hurt of course, you’re not used to it.

Though proper lubrication would probably of helped, you didn’t expect him to have any lying around. He seemed just as desperate for this as you did.

Mike was only about a quarter of the way in, and had come to a stop, gently rocking his hips back and forth, letting you adjust to his size. Once the pain subsided, he carried on, sliding deeper and deeper inside of you.  
Soon enough he was half way in, and the pain wasn’t anywhere near as intense as before, but every time you would wince or cry out, he’d stop pushing in, snog you passionately and gently pull back and thrust in, stopping at the limit that you were at.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was a god at it. All the while he was groaning and sweet talking. That deep, western country accent was perfect.

All you could do was look up at his half lidded green eyes, those beautiful eyes that never lost contact with yours. His smile was pure, his relaxing hands kept you calm under him.  
Almost lost in the moment, you didn’t notice him sliding in deeper and deeper until you suddenly felt that spot inside you get tickled once again. Your mouth flew open and an extremely loud moan escaped, echoing off of the bedroom walls.

Then you felt full. You regained your eye contact, only to see him smirking at you, and with a quick raise of his eyebrows and a wink, you could feel something big and hairy rubbing against your cheeks.

“See, wasn’t too hard now was it sweetheart?” You couldn’t see very well, but it didn’t take a sex expert to tell that Thatcher was buried to the hilt inside of you. His big, low hanging balls resting against your peachy rear.

“So bloody hot and tight, boyo. You’re fookin’ marvellous...”

You could only blush at the compliments, feeling almost a little shy.  
The older man held himself for a few minutes, only rolling his hips ever so slightly.  
You could feel him slowly pulling out, ever so carefully until only a quarter of his cock was still buried inside your hole, and then he pushed in, a little harder than the last time, hitting the sweet spot just right.  
And then again.  
And again.  
His moans and groans picked up along with his speed as you adjusted and became comfortable with the man’s entire length inside of you.  
Every thrust would have you squealing in pleasure.

Thatcher grasped your legs and lifted them off of his shoulders, slightly altering his position, and bringing them to sit around his waist. You wrapped them around him instinctively, and brought your arms up to hold onto the hirsute man.

His beard prickled your face as he kissed you again, tongues finding one another and his torso and chest coming into contact with yours, his arms slithered under you as he tightened his grasp, holding himself up on his forearms. Thrusting deeper and deeper inside you, gradually getting faster and harder.  
You cried out for Mike to give you more and more, daddy slipping from your lips more often, which in turn made the older operative even hornier.

“Mmmm, Daddy you’re so big” you didn’t think about what you’re saying in the moment. Thatcher would reward you with sweet talk whenever you pleased him.

“That’s a good boy, daddy likes that” that one made you moan out Mike’s name.  
The feeling of his slicked, girthy manhood pounding into your no longer virgin arsehole was now up there on the list of favourite feelings in the world.  
You felt so happy, you felt like you could cry.  
Looking up into the eyes of your lover, as he smiles at you innocently, all the while he’s pounding into your rear, barely breaking a sweat.

You hadn’t even touched your neglected member, but you already felt close.  
The friction from Mike’s entire body rubbing up against you with every thrust, for the past 10 minutes had gotten you right to the edge of climax. He could see it in your strained face that you wanted to cum.  
Mike wanted to cum too.  
He was holding off for a short while, making sure you’re enjoying it all.

*flack flack flack flack flack flack* 

Deep growls and murmurs lost in the sound of the older man’s bollocks slapping against you. It was a sound you’ll never forget. The squelching as your arse would tightly clench around Mike’s throbbing erection, all of the pre-cum-saliva mix ‘lubricant’ working effectively as a surprise.

Then you felt it. The pressure building up inside you, you were going to blow any minute now, and the veteran could tell.

“Close eh babe? Because I am...I’m very close” it was a wonder how his speech didn’t waver. He was composed all through out. Even as his thrusting became more ragged and less controlled, his breathing was almost the same, his voice never broke once.

Every little thrust, you’d cry out for your daddy.  
Every squeeze he’d give to reassure you, you’d bury your face into his chest and nuzzle him.  
Whenever he’d kiss you, you’d moan uncontrollably.  
He was ever so passionate, and somehow gentle in all of the deep, hard fucking.  
He’d stroke your short, fluffy hair and whisper both encouraging, sweet chatter and filthy obscenities like a horny old bastard.

You’d be begging for him, calling his name over and over, asking him to cuddle you more and more. Wanting to feel the butterflies inside you fly free whilst experiencing the sheer pleasure of his fat cock head gliding over your prostate.

“D-Daddy I’m…I’m going to c-c-c-cum!” The stutters started as you felt your breath hitch, teetering on the verge of orgasm, and slightly embarrassed by the words you moaned out.  
Mike found it invigorating. It got him very excited. You could tell as he thrusted even harder, letting out a primal growl of pleasure as he pounded your arse.

You tightened your hold on the man who was towered over you, it was impossible to get any closer as he was pressed in, balls deep, every inch of your bodies touching one another’s. Foreheads touching gently, and the slightest bit of sweat dripped from Mike’s wrinkled brow on to yours, noses rubbing, lovingly. He’d leave sweet little pecks on your lips every other second.

Thatcher’s breathing started to become strained and heavy, muttering fuck over and over until he spat out one sentence.  
“Fookin’ Christ babe, I’m gonna cum” and that one sentence sent you over the edge, almost screaming out loud as your orgasm hit suddenly.  
The feeling of both Thatcher massaging your prostate like a professional with every thrust, and the friction from your clashing bodies was more than enough for you. This positions was perfect for the both of you. You could both use your arms and hands on something else. Your own dick isn’t neglected, it’s getting hands free attention and it was extraordinary.

It was by far the most intense orgasm you have had to date, topping your first ever, which had you curling up into a ball until the overwhelming sensation passed.  
You tensed up, and your rear clenched around the bearded man’s throbbing cock as you shot your load between the both of you, caking your’s and Mike’s stomach and in your hot, white ejaculate.

The sudden tightness was enough for Mike to let go and release his pent up orgasm. The sound he let out probably would have woken everyone up if they were close enough, roaring out the most gruff moan as well as your name, and a few swear words. Every spurt of the older man’s sticky, salty and thick cum could be felt. Your inner walls incredibly sensitive, you could feel his dick pulsating with every single shot.  
Your face in the moment was indescribable, but Thatcher could only stare with the goofiest and most sincere smile as he happily captured the special moment in his eyes like he said he would. His thrusts slowed right down, and soon he gradually withdrew his softening manhood from your newly ‘christened’ hole.

It must have been a long while since Thatcher last relieved himself, even after pulling out it was like no end to the amount of semen he produced, a couple more spurts landed across your stomach, and Thatcher looked on and chuckled at the sight before speaking.

“You can bloody milk my cock good, son” was it a compliment? You couldn’t help but laugh at it. It really surprised you though, for his age, he had the stamina of a god and an incredible sex drive, and what seemed like an absurdly high sperm count. Nothing like you learnt from sex-ed, online findings and pornography.  
Then came the awkward silence. What do you do after you’ve just had the fucking of your life?  
You’ve been filled to the brim with the older man’s liquid love and slightly covered in it. What do you do now?

But now that you were coming down from your ‘high’, you felt tiredness creep back up on you, letting out a yawn to top it off.

“Did I wear ya out lad?” Mike asked, almost concerned, giggling his words.

“I need sleep daddy” you really felt tired now. It hit you like a train, mumbling out the entire sentence.

“Daddy needs sleep too, son” you liked that he played along with your daddy issues, and wasn’t creeped out by it.  
He embraced his daddy status and loved it.

“Did I make you happy?” Your self conscience asked the question, wanting to feel validated.

“Of course ya made me happy, (Y/n). Such a silly question ya daft bugger!”  
You both got a chuckle from that.

Then silence again.

“We really should shower and change the sheets. I do cum quite a lot…”

Suppression.

“…But, for tonight, let’s not worry about it” Mike just smiled at you as he reached over to the bedside table next to you, opening a draw and pulling out a box of tissues.

“Do you keep them there for every time you bring someone to bed?” You probably shouldn’t of said that.

You could tell Thatcher didn’t expect it from you, but shrugged it off and answered truthfully with a soft grin.

“Would ya believe me if I told you that you’re the only person I’ve had in my bed?” You really could believe it though, as sad as that may sound. But Thatcher doesn’t lie. He’s a god-honest man, and you could always count on him to be truthful.

Then another long silence.

Thatcher opened the box of tissues, but rather than giving you some, he proceeded to wipe you off himself.

“I can do it myself you know, Mike…I might call you daddy but you don’t have to treat me like a child all the time” you probably should have kept that to yourself too.

“Nonsense sweetheart, maybe I want to look after you” you warmed up at that, feeling wanted. It was nice.

Looking up to Mike with wide eyes but a slight sullen look, whimpering,  
“Don’t leave me like everyone else did.”

“Never, sweet.”

“But what if you get bored of me?”

“I wont…”

Less and less of the room around you became visible as Mike closed the gap.

“…Because, (Y/n)…”

Wet, soft lips pressed against your forehead, his facial fuzz tickling your brow and nose.

“…you are…”

Thatcher trailed down, rubbing his beard along your face, before coming to rest on your own lips, and moist tongues came in contact for a very long and sweet minute, before the older SAS operative broke away to finish.

“…mine.”

Mike’s pearly whites on show, his hand cupped your face and you leant into the touch, and the passionate kiss resumed once again for a short time.

“I really would snog ya all day and night if I could”

Cold midnight air sent shivers down your spine as Thatcher pushed himself up and moved to the side, sitting up in the bed whilst he wiped the cum off of his belly with a tissue, taking a little extra time getting the sticky substance out of his fur, tossing it to the bedside table once he finished.

Readjusting himself and laying back with his head on a pillow, you sat up, ready to head back to your bed.  
You swung your legs around to the side to stand up, but a strong arm held you in place.

“Where do ya think yer goin’? He asked.

Simply replying with the only logical answer,  
“To bed?”

“You’re in bed you fookin’ numpty! Now c’mere.”

You couldn’t protest his brute strength, and simply accepted it.

Mike pulled the bedsheets down before pulling you into his nook once again. He reached down and pulled the quilt over the both of you, making sure you’re nice and snug, essentially tucking you in. His left arm holding you, hand resting on your side whilst he rubbed up and down. You curled into the warmth again, head resting right under his collarbone, his familiar heartbeat lulled you. Your left arm came to rest across his stomach, and his right hand came to hold yours, fingered intertwined.

This began your thoughts, that you could really get used to this. Thatcher cradling you every night sounded like a dream come true.  
You were happy that someone cared for you finally, and he wanted to protect you.

Sleep began taking over your body and mind, and you let out a whimper again.

“Please don’t hurt me again daddy.”

“Your ‘father’ is gone sweetheart, he can’t hurt ya anymore” Mike was sure to comfort you in your time of need.  
You were unpredictable when it came to your emotions, your mood would change instantly without any sort of warning or notice.

“But daddy always hurt me…”

“I never hurt you (Y/n). He wasn’t your daddy, he never loved you, boyo. I love you.”

Thatcher hasn’t hurt you, ever. In this short week and a bit, Mike had shown you more compassion, support and love than any other person has in your 21 years on this earth.  
The pain that your biological father made you experience never turned into the most blissful pleasure you’ve experienced in your life.  
No one ever told you that they love you, and that’s all you ever wanted.  
Now those three words were spoken softly to you as you slowly started slipping into slumber, you felt at complete peace.

“I love you too.”

Maybe for once, you can sleep through the night, and not be woken up the the screams of agony that you wish you could forget.

“I don’t know how anyone could want to hurt you…”

You let out one long groan as you nuzzled into the beary man, eyes closing for the night with no intention of opening them until daylight.

Without hesitation, Mike turned his head and stretched his neck, leaving you a small, wet smooch on your cheek.  
“G’night, (Y/n).” 

Hopefully tomorrow is a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did tell you that my writing is sucky 🤷🏼♂️ (I hope you guys can see emojis in the notes).
> 
> I have terminal repetition syndrome. I made that up, but you probably understand.


	9. Coffee

Morning sunlight creeped through the light curtains that covered the window.  
You hadn’t opened your eyes yet but could tell it was morning by the slight colour shift that pierced your eyelids, your ears tuning in to the sounds of the birds singing.  
This was a good time to get up.  
But you couldn’t move.  
You tried again, but to no avail.  
Panic started setting in as you struggled, the hold on you getting tighter.

A familiar voice rang out, getting louder and louder.  
“Hey, shhhh-shhh-shhhh. You’ll be okay, wake up, sweet. It’s only me” you could feel one hand gently rubbing your side as another carefully caressed your cheek. Noticing the accent, you calmed down almost immediately.  
Cracking an eye open, you were greeted to the sight of skin and hair, your head resting atop a portion of it.  
Then a heartbeat faded in, and you slowly realised that you’re still being cradled by Thatcher, and that the soft, warm pillow on which your head rested upon was his chest.

“good morning sweetheart” it was a nice surprise to wake up to. The hand that caressed your cheek found yours that had been resting across the man’s torso. Mike gave it a little squeeze, before leaning in and kissing you on the forehead.

“Good morning Mike” your voice was croaky, still trying to wake up. Again, the man tightened his hold on you, and you nuzzled into him instinctively.

“Comfy there, boyo?” Thatcher asked. You kept nuzzling into him and hummed out an answer, which got you a chuckle in return.  
You looked up to the man in awe at his incredibly handsome features.  
Finally feeling confident to call him something along the lines of “a wonderful, most handsome daddy.” You has the look in your eye, wanting to get him slightly worked up about it, hoping for a little play time before getting up for the day.

But you didn’t say anything, instead you asked him what the time was. 

“What’s the time?” 

“Just gone half 9. A lot later than I usually get up bu-“ 

“Oh…I’m sorry for keeping you here” 

The older man let out an extremely loud sigh after your dumb apology. 

“(Y/n)! Stop fookin’ apologising! Jesus Christ…I know, it’s bloody hard for you to stop, anxiety is shite, and yes, I know you have it, and I want to help you. If you’d of let me finish, I was going to say, I don’t mind laying in at all. Luckily here, we set our own rules and make our own routines.” 

Was it really that obvious other than constantly apologising? All of the stammering? Flinching? Feeling like everyone dislikes you? Overthinking everything? Taking things the wrong way? Constant need for reassurance? Thatcher was always reassuring you. Does he know that you hate confrontation and can’t accept criticism? Right now you knew you were overthinking, and Thatcher could see it in your eyes. But he knows how to handle you when your anxiety flares up. Thatcher said what was on his mind and it just caused you to stare at him with your mouth gaped.

“You’re fookin’ adorable, (Y/n). An absolutely gorgeous boy.” Mike really knew how to make you blush, and enjoyed making your cheeks turn red.  
Soon enough the older operator’s beard was tickling your face as his lips came into contact with yours. Taking advantage of your gawking form, the familiar, wet tongue found yours and started their signature slow dance,  
hidden behind sealed muzzles.  
You never wanted him to stop. The loving kisses that he gave, the comforting embrace that only comes from his arms, the touch of his surprisingly soft hands and fingers gently tracing circles on your body.

You felt Mike’s hand come to rest on your thigh, rubbing dangerously close to your soft member. Though it wasn’t very long until your manhood started to swell, getting harder and harder.

You felt flustered when the kiss was broken, and got brave, going to rub the older man’s thigh.

“No need to be hesitant, boyo. You were eager to touch him last night” Mike’s friendly reminder had you feeling slightly embarrassed, but it was true. After you got past the mental block in your head, you wanted to feel every inch of him.  
You wanted to feel his hot girth in your hands right this second.

Mike growled as you wrapped your fingers around his flaccid shaft, slowly toying with him.  
Stroking him up and down, squeezing lightly causing him to shudder in delight. It got too much for him quickly, and he pounced on top of you. You were hungry to taste him again, and he was eager to get off.

Chops clashed together for the umpteenth time, unable to get enough of one another.  
You could feel a hardening warmth against your own rock hard rod, and soon, an exhilarating vice like grip surrounding both of your erections, the friction of them rubbing together was incredible, and it got better and better as the older man’s hot juice covered your own cock. It still amazed you, the sheer amount of pre-cum that he produced.

“You always this wet?” You asked, your voice on the verge of cracking.

“Takes the right kind of guy to make me this horny, sweetheart” replied the hirsute man.

He pushed himself up and got off of the bed, standing on your side, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you up to sit on the edge. Guiding you to his dripping dick.  
He wants you to suck it, it’s obvious. You toy with the idea of teasing him, but decide against it, taking in his length slowly, savouring every drop of his manly pre-cum, wanting to taste more and more of Thatcher, inhaling the musky, intoxicating scent.

Mike held your head delicately as he gently thrust his daddy dick in your mouth. He was sure not go too deep in case you’d choke, but he wasn’t holding back entirely.  
Utilising your tongue as best as you can, lapping up his salty juice from the slit, swirling it around his thick head, getting it under his foreskin, gently grazing your teeth on his frenulum. You could tell he was enjoying every second of it.

You’d sometimes pull your head away and run your tongue up and down his veiny shaft, going down to his big, hairy, meaty balls.  
The growls coming deep from the older man’s throat were borderline primal.  
Taking him back into your mouth he became a little more rough, thrusting a little harder, pushing a little deeper.  
His moans getting louder, turning you on more and more.  
One hand stroking your cheek whilst the other brushed your scruffy, short hair.

You looked up into Mike’s eyes, with your own innocent brown orbs. The smile that he bared down upon you made your heart flutter, and although you hadn’t seen it before, you could tell that the look in his eyes was pure lust. You can see he loves you, and it made you happy.

A few minutes of slow, gentle sucking and Thatcher decided to change it up. His thrusts became harder, and harder, and faster. He became rough, and you could feel his cock swelling even more, his bollocks tensing.  
Then he grabbed a hold of your hair and pulled your head in to his crotch, his dick being forced down your throat, and you suddenly felt like throwing up, feeling like you’re choking, unable to breathe.

You put your palms on his hips and tried pushing away, tears building in your eyes as the panic began setting in. Your small sobs were completely muted by the older man’s cock. This side of Thatcher was new. He’s always been gentle, and even last night, when he took your virginity, throughout the entirety of it, he was mindful, always asking if you’re okay, being sure he wasn’t too rough, and taking things slow.  
This was a new Thatcher. He was rough and fast. His eyes only projected love but his tight hold on your short hair and forceful thrusts, mixed with his harsh push and pull motion on your head was terrifying to you.

You struggled for a few minutes to try and break free whilst he forced your head down on him, and when you did, you didn’t look happy.  
Thatcher looked down at you, almost upset that you didn’t want to carry on, but soon realised that he was taking it way too far as he got carried away.

He leaned in and gave you a big smacker on the forehead and whispered,  
“I’m sorry, sweet. I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” Though you found it a little hard to believe because of how long it took for him to finally stop forcing you to deep throat him.

You were still flustered and horny though, and Thatcher was still twitching, needing his release. His hand guided you once again, this time slower than when you started. He took your left hand in his and proceeded to slide his cock deeper in your mouth. Then you felt a pinch on your thumb, and the bearded SAS operative slid his cock deeper and deeper, and you had no clue. He’d squeeze your thumb in little intervals, and it kept you distracted well.

Realising that you had his cock as deep in your throat as he can go, his balls pressed up against your chin, your nose deep in his manly bush of fur. You didn’t feel sick, and you didn’t feel like you couldn’t breathe. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose and it got easier every time.  
But you were bewildered as to how he’s now balls deep without issue. He is hung, and had a lot of girth.

Slowly he rocked back and forth, carefully fucking your face, grunting and panting. He was close, and he told you.

“Atta boy, keep it up, you’ll make daddy cum real fookin’ soon. Daddy needs to cum, boyo”  
His words of encouragement made you put some work into it, wanting him to reach his climax, excited to taste it.

You could feel the small pinch on your thumb every so often, and the thick meat rubbing against your throat muscles. It felt weird to be truthful, but without your gag reflex getting in the way it was manageable.

Mike eased off a bit the closer he got, no longer intruding into your throat. Only to warn you soon after.

“Let me finish off, I don’t want you choking on my cum”

But being the stubborn twat you are, you carried on, and this time forced yourself on the man. You really wanted to finish him off, you wanted to taste his hot seed.

But he insisted that you stopped, worried that you’ll struggle.

“Please, (Y/n). I don’t want you to panic. It’ll be uncomfortable having to explain to either our teammates or in the worst case, an EMT, that you nearly drowned in cum.” Thatcher’s voice was stern, but hitched every now and then as he got closer and closer to his explosive release.

You looked up into his warm, loving eyes with your puppy dog stare and the older man gave in.

“Alright then sweetheart, just don’t say I d-didn’t warn ya-arrrgghhhhh” The veteran was really close, evident by his loud moaning. You could feel his cock throb, gentle hands stroked your hair and occasionally your cheek and under your chin. He’s very hands on and affectionate.

“Grrrr-agghhhh…that’s it, boyo, just like that. That’s how daddy likes it. Oh fook I’m gonna cum.” You hollowed out your cheeks and put your tongue to work even harder as he warned you.

Thatcher let out an extremely loud and deep growl as his orgasm brimmed. Taking the opportunity, you made sure your eyes locked on to his, and tried to moan out his name.

“Mike...Daddy” it was barely comprehensible but he heard you, and the vibrations it sent down his meaty shaft caused him to erupt in your mouth. Hot, sticky man cream shot into the back of your mouth. Just like last night, you could feel his dick pulsating with every spurt. He was filling your mouth quickly and he was still cumming. It became apparent what he meant, you never fully grasped just how much he produced. He told you it was a lot, and now you see why he warned you.

You genuinely thought you were going to choke, until you bit your tongue and swallowed. It was salty, a little sweet though, and yet you liked it. Though you winced when the first lot passed down your throat, it got easier. More of his thick sperm plastered the roof of your mouth, happily drinking it up, swallowing more of it until Thatcher pulled his cock from your hungry lips, letting the last few squirts cake your face. Some of his juice seeped from your lips and dripped down your chin.

“Jesus...bloody hell. Don’t ya look cute huh?” Mike was almost panting.  
He crouched onto one knee and brought his lips to yours, kissing you intensely for a few seconds before lowering down onto his other knee and resting his head between your legs.

“Do I taste good eh, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Mmhmm” you were drunk on the man’s sweet ejaculate, losing all ability to reply with any form of English.

“Just sit back and enjoy, babe” Thatcher looked up to you and winked before taking your own, neglected rod into his mouth with ease. It wasn’t very difficult though, you weren’t anywhere near as big as the older Brit is.  
It didn’t take you very long to come close to your release either. You’re a lot more sensitive, and Thatcher seemed to have a magical tongue that would hit the spot every time. He knew the most sensitive spot on the underside of your dick, and make you shudder. His beard and moustache would add to the sensations as they’d rub against you when he took you deep.

You couldn’t help but run your hands through his hair, his soft, soft hair. It was therapeutic to you. Like petting a dog.  
Though one thing he didn’t do much of, if at all, was look up into your eyes. You’d be staring at him as he works his lips and tongue around your sensitive cock, and he never looked up. Is it a dominance thing? But you didn’t care, he was a master at this...or so you think he is. This is the first time you’ve ever received a blowjob, but he got you so close to releasing quickly. You were tense, your leg shaking slightly as the pressure built up.

Then it hit. Your toes curled and you squealed out as your orgasm finally came, almost screaming out the older man’s name, shamelessly calling out for your daddy.  
Mike held his head down and took every shot of cum. You were shaking in pleasure as you shot your load in the older man’s mouth. He pulled away just to catch a little bit of cum dribbling out and getting stuck in his facial fuzz.

Then you made eye contact with him, and all you could see was his devilish grin and yet another wink before he rose up to your head height, placed one hand on your shoulder and held your head at the back, before bringing lips to lips and kissing you deep. More hot, salty liquid entered your mouth. It was a slight shock, but you just accepted it and swallowed it.

The kiss broke soon leaving you feeling empty, Thatcher slowly licked his lips whilst staring you straight in the eyes which got your heart racing again. He was just so perfect.  
He stood up, now once again towering over you, his large, sheathed, flaccid manhood waving about inches from your face.  
You were mesmerised by it.  
But strong, soft hands held you under your arms and picked you up, you didn’t notice that he was talking to you the entire time you were sat, staring.

“C’mon, shower, we smell like hot, sweaty sex and cum.” Of course you agreed to it, showers are relaxing and overall just great. When the temperature is just right, you’d probably spend hours stood under the stream of water, enjoying the feeling of it hitting your bare skin.

Mike pulled you in for a quick and tight hug, whispering, “you’re gawking by the way”.

You didn’t want to move now, feeling his warm, furry body pressed up against yours felt incredible as it did the last time. You really liked these hugs and cuddles. They’re soothing and comforting, even if you can’t move, that fear of being immobilised completely disappears when you’re with Thatcher, you know you’re safe if you’re in his arms. And feeling safe is something you never really experienced much of, you were always tense and on edge. Everything would make you flinch and almost everyone you met, you kept your distance from.

“Move yer arse, boyo” Mike chuckled, squeezing your shoulder, trying to get you to walk with him.

It wasn’t difficult, finding yourself in the bathroom already. The sound of water hitting the tiled floor of the shower room filled the air and an incredible strength pulled you over.

“I hope it’s not too hot or cold for ya” he reached a hand in to test the temperature, before smiling at you and ushering you to get in. You happily stepped in, the temperature is just how you liked it. Thatcher joined in very soon after, the warm water matting his dark hair to his body.

“You’re so handsome, Mike” it barely came out as a whisper but of course he heard it.

“Oh stop it, I’m way past my prime and look like a miserable old git” the older operator joked.

“Shut up, don’t say that, you…you’re so fucking perfect I don’t even know how I managed to get here. I look like a mess, I am a mess!” Biting back at the man, you’re unsure what just came about you but you slowly started feeling down again, until Thatcher replied that is.

“Come off it ya silly bugger, yer a fookin’ gorgeous boy, and you aren’t a mess. You’re doing extremely well, (Y/n) and I’m proud of you! You’re getting through the hard times like the champ that you are. Thank you for the compliment by the way.” There it is again! The little wink and his infectious smile.

Outstretched arms drew you in to yet another hug, wet bodies coming together. You found the comfort spot on his chest where you would lay your head and listen to his heartbeat, all the while he would lightly trace a finger down your back and up your arms, switching to his palm, rubbing your back and sides occasionally.  
Every single hug brought you both closer together, and never once did you tire of them. Every time you’d look up into the elder’s beautiful, deep green eyes, they’d be gazing back lovingly.

The two of you didn’t take too long in the shower, cleaning up and washing off was effortless. Exiting the shower first was Thatcher, but only by a few seconds. You were greeted by a damp, hairy, bearded Brit who was holding a fluffy towel out to you, which you accepted with a smile.

“Thank you”

“No worries, son.” 

It was like you turned to stone when Thatcher called you ‘son’. You just stopped, holding the towel still, gazing at the man.  
Your attention was soon turned to Mike’s thick appendage, hypnotised as it slowly swung side to side.  
It wasn’t until his intense gaze fell on you and a raised eyebrow got you moving, before Mike could even open his mouth and tell you that you’re gawking, you slapped yourself mentally and proceeded to dry off.

10 minutes later and the both of you were dried and dressed, though neither of you had any sort of plan for the day, and training was usually whenever you felt like it. Being no strict rules that everyone has to follow it was a nice freedom.  
It wasn’t what you expected.

You actually half expected to be on some sort of a military schedule and atmosphere. But rather than tight packed bunks and basic decor, with set times for whatever it is they’d do in the military, it was luxurious.  
True, Team Rainbow isn’t exactly military, though mostly comprised of ex-military personnel, then made “best of the world” CTU personnel, now ‘secretive’ operatives, almost unknown to the world.

Everyone has proper, expensive beds, dorm rooms were basically their own little house, consisting of multiple rooms, rather than having just a communal kitchen and sort of shared living quarters. No, each ‘dorm room’ was big, having living rooms, bedrooms, full bathrooms and office rooms. Each decorated different to the next. Usually decoration is done by the occupants of the rooms. They’d come already furbished in a cream/light brown/grey colour scheme and all basic furniture supplied. You’re free to change it all. Go into the Germans dorms and their walls are bright white on 3 sides and deep red on the back, flags, pictures and other miscellaneous Knick-Knacks dotted around and their office room had been knocked out to extend their living room, which they used more as a games room. Those three really are just big kids, loveable and fun to be around.

Mike didn’t do much to the walls of the living room, but the entire carpet had been upholstered and replaced with a beige coloured carpet, a very soft one. The kitchen floor is a simple laminated wood one. The walls still the light cream colour, except the bedroom which is light with a tint of grey, which was a very calming colour. The bathroom was plastered in large, white gloss tiles on the floor, and a white/beige stone textured tile wall wrapped the whole way around.

He didn’t have many photos, some dotted about of just him, rather recent ones, some of him and a few of the guys here in Rainbow and the SAS as well.  
Sometimes you’d feel guilty seeing the photo of Mike and the SAS ops at the pub, feeling like you’ve pulled him away from his fellow comrades. But you try to brush it off. You don’t have a problem with Seamus and Mark, but James, you try to avoid him after he started the fight with you. Not that you’re afraid he will try again, because you know you can take him on easily, but it’s just the pure awkwardness, and Seamus and Mark always seem to tag along with him. It’s rare they’re ever caught alone, and if they are, it’s usually during training.

You did open up to Mike once about it, telling him about your guilt. You genuinely felt like you drove him away from them, and it played on your mind for a few days.  
But as the genuine and caring gentleman he is, he reassured you that it’s not your fault, and that Mike is the one who’s choosing who he spends his time with. That helped you settle down, knowing that he wanted to be in your company.

Mike took a seat on the sofa, picking up his phone and placing his reading glasses on, reading through all the bullshit that social media and news sites have to offer. You stood around, unsure of what to do. Deciding that pacing around the room whilst also staring at your phone was the best idea.  
Messages popping up from your group chat that you and your few friends are in. They kept on asking you where you had gone, because you never explained to them that you’ve gone off to a new job, essentially moving away. That’s one other thing you felt guilty about. Brushing it off or just saying that you’ve gone to sort some business and that you’ll be busy for the week or however long, you didn’t know if you can tell them exactly what it is that you do now, is it classified information? But that’s to be explained to them another day.

Mike got a little tired of you wandering about, calling out your name.  
“(Y/n), come and sit.”

You obeyed his order and took your seat next to the man, only to have his arm come over your shoulders and pull you in to him. He let out a low and deep groan which sounded so incredibly sexy.

“Daddy wants you to sit on his lap, son”

You didn’t even think, you just turned and looked at him, then opened your mouth to speak.

“Da…ddy?” You didn’t think he’d call himself that outside of the bedroom, better yet, call you son.  
But you did secretly love it, embracing his daddy status and using it whenever he can was something you really, really liked. It just tickled that spot inside you and scratched that kink-itch of yours. Would you call it a kink considering the origins of your ‘daddy issues?’

Without hesitation, you shifted yourself on to his lap, where his hands held your hips and his mouth covered yours.  
Before long, you were again, being cradled by the older operative, leaning into him as he held you in his arms. He would gently roll his hips, grinding against your supple behind.

“Comfy there sweetheart?” Mike asked, a hand cupped your cheek as he closed the gap, nose to nose as he passionately snogged you deeply. Stopping minutes later to pull you in closer, one hand on the back of your head, holding you to his chest so you can listen to his beating heart.  
Snuggling yourself into him and groaning out in the pleasure.

You could easily fall asleep like this, every inch of your body tingled, and it was an addictive feeling.  
Both of you were lost in the moment, enjoying every second of the cuddle.  
Totally at ease, feeling safe and sound, it was pure bliss for you, and Thatcher loved caressing you with little pets and kisses whilst his arms were wrapped around you.

Being this deep in the light, loving act you were both oblivious to everything around you, which includes the main door opening and two Germans entering.

Dominic was the first to let his presence known, almost shouting, “Guten morgen!”

“Jesus fookin’ Christ, how’d you get in?!” Thatcher queried him, genuinely confused as to how Bandit got in.  
Marius took this as an opportunity to let his presence also be known.

“You left the key in the door on the outside, Dom found it last night so he brought it back so no one else would mess with it or take it.”

“I would of come in and given it to you, I was going to see how (Y/n) is doing, because I didn’t see him for a few days, and I got worried. But I could hear that you were busy…so anyway, happy Father’s Day for yesterday, Mike.” Bandit was stood, smiling at the two of you with a cheesy grin.

“You heard…everything?” Mike didn’t exactly look mortified, but his facial expression was close to it.

“So do you prefer Mike or Daddy?” The bearded German asked.

Both you and Mike went red in the face at the realisation that Bandit most likely heard you getting your brains fucked out by the bear of a man, who’s lap you were happily sat in, snuggled up to for them both to see.

“Also, (Y/n), did ‘Daddy’ like your card?” You visibly cringed when Bandit addressed Thatcher as such. It never crossed your mind how weird it sounds calling Mike your daddy, but will it stop you in the future? No.  
You’ll just make sure not to say it loudly out of the dorms and around other people.  
Come to think of it though, what does it say in the card?

“I love the card a lot thank you, Dom. It was wonderful!”

“(Y/n) thought it would be a nice idea to show his appreciation for your work an-“

“Dominic, I’m not thick. I can tell your writing from a mile off, and (Y/n) told me that you two did it for a joke.”  
Thatcher cut off the older German midway through his explanation.

“Oh…” it came as a sigh and Marius just looked around a little awkwardly.

“I’m not mad. If anything, I’m surprised that you two could see a little more in the two of us, and did that for (Y/n). I appreciate it a lot, lads” Thatcher had no shame in showing his affection in front of them, quickly turning his attention to you, placing a big smacker on your lips and rubbing your chest. Making sure to show them who’s in control.  
For a moment after the kiss ended, his hold tightened and you melted into him, not a care in the world, rubbing your face up against his chest, clinging on to him.

“Seems like you’re both getting on well, I’m happy for you both” Bandit was over the moon at the sight before him. Marius was just smiling dumbly.

“Anyway, we’re here because we are bored. Would you both be interested in going out to Hereford for a few hours maybe? Coffee and whatever? Mr. McKinley suggested it, so there’s three already.”  
Bandit suggested the idea which didn’t sound too bad.

“What do ya say, sweetheart. Could do with a little time out couldn’t we?” Thatcher looked to you, wanting to hear what you wanted to do.

“Yeah, I’d like that Mike” you smiled up at him and gave everyone a thumbs up.

*ping*

“Masaru, Yumiko and Monika are coming too.”  
Jäger informed after he received the message.

“When are we thinking of heading out then, lads?” Thatcher turned his head to the two Germans who had invaded their living room.

“Anytime. Now maybe?”

Then it was decided, Thatcher scooped you up into his arms entirely, standing up with ease. Placing a small kiss on your lips before placing you on your feet.

“Let’s get going then shall we?” Thatcher exclaimed, his hands coming together loudly which made Jäger jump.

Plans being made up on the fly and you’re already making your way out of the dorm room. Thatcher made sure to lock the door and not leave the key this time.  
All of you gathered in the lobby area, everyone wore casual clothes and all decided who’s going in what car.  
You of course offered to drive again, taking any excuse to get your pride and joy on the road. Thatcher offered too, but was told not to worry as Collinn said he’d drive the rest of them.  
Which made sense as his XK8R wouldn’t fit anyone other than Max Goose in the back due to it being a 2+2 grand tourer. The rear seats are basically for show, unless you’re either small enough, amputated at the knees, or like sitting in the most uncomfortable positions.

Yours wasn’t great on leg room either in the back, but it was certainly bigger in comparison, and comfortable enough to not get any complaints from both Thatcher and Maestro.

Warden of course took Echo, Hibana and IQ, as Bandit wanted to ride in the Skyline, and obviously Jäger and Bandit are almost inseparable. Mike would sit up with you, for other obvious reasons.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to see Warden has a relatively new, blacked out Mercedes, and it was of course an AMG. Something sparked inside you that got you excited. Not quite excited in the trousers, but you knew the drive would be fun.

Before everyone got in the cars, you all decided where you would head off to first, and meet up there.

You all started chatting about possible places to start, though it seemed everyone was all over the place.

“I want Starbucks…I need an iced latte to keep myself going” Dominic chimed in.

“Fucking Starbucks, what are you? A basic white girl called Emilia who posts leg and feet pics at the beach on Instagram, and has a wall in their house with the vinyl decoration that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ on it?” Jäger lost it completely and Monika and Hibana were trying to hide themselves as they choked on air.

“Sorry, what was that (Y/n)? I couldn’t hear you properly, might need to take Mike’s dick out of your mouth” you almost bit back but just snorted and giggled, face turning red. From the corner of your eye you saw Mike looking slightly past everyone, putting on an extremely bait straight face. He was trying his best not to lose it too.

“Okay ya’ll, Starbucks it is then? Brunsmeier is ever so desperate for it, why not start there hey?”  
So it was agreed. Starbucks it is.

“Looks like you got your wish, princess Dominic” you stared at him from your side of the car as he walked over.

“Still can’t understand you (Y/n)! You’ve got to swallow the cum first, talking with your mouthful is rude!”  
The laughter continued and you just began feeling more and more embarrassed, before replying back.

“You know who’s driving, right?” You raises your eyebrow at him as he opened the passenger door and moved the seat to get in the back.

“Very true.”

Once everyone was in, you rolled your window down and started up the car. You waved Collinn off and said you’d catch up, as you’d wait for the engine to warm up. Like that, they were gone. The distinct sound of the 6.3L V8 slowly quietening down as it distances itself from you.

Five short minutes later and you set off, driving at a normal pace, and waving at the operative who took gate duty for the dawn shift. You couldn’t really see who it was, but he smiled at you guys and waved you off.

You barely pushed the speed limit, hoping to catch up gradually, but there was no sight of him. Though luckily the way to Hereford from your position took you on to a very long dual carriage way.  
You checked with everyone and asked if they didn’t mind you pushing it a bit. No one objected, so you dropped it a couple of gears and booted it.

Soon enough you saw the rear end of a familiar Mercedes’s, same plate. You just moved to the right lane and passed them, they looked like they were at a standstill, despite the fact they’re doing between 60-70. You slowed down, loud bangs and large flames shot from your exhaust, something you absolutely loved making your car do. You felt like a child whenever it backfired, a child with a good childhood at least. You let them catch up so you can cruise together, now only minutes away from Hereford itself, and a further few to the destination.

Upon arrival to what looked to be newly built retail park, varieties of shops and restaurants, the buildings seemed to circle around the large asphalt ground which was used as the car park. You both pulled into spots next to each other in the empty side of the car park. Bandit was eager to get out and get his ‘special princess’ iced latte that he so desperately needs.

It was a big building for a Starbucks, but every building here was giant. From the outside they look like factory buildings, but the insides were furbished accordingly to the companies signature styles.

Dominic ordered first, of course.

“Hallo, can I get a large double shot hazelnut iced latte with whipped cream on top, bitte?” He sounded ever so excited to order his drink.

Luckily the barista working today was in a good mood and served with a bubbly attitude.

“Of course! Can I get your name?” She asked.

You took the opportunity to answer for him.  
“It’s princess Dommy-wommy-woowoo” you half shouted across the building.

Bandit just turned and looked at you “Halt die Klappe spastisch…” (shut up spastic) the tattoo covered German turned back to answer the Barista’s question himself “…I’m Dom.”

Simple as that, he paid for his drink and waited whilst everyone else ordered theirs.

Give or take 10 minutes and everyone had their drinks. You all took a seat at a table outside instead of heading straight back to the cars. Then Bandit finds something to complain about.

“She spelt my name as Princess Dong…what the fuck?”

“Dom, they do it intentionally at Starbucks, how haven’t you noticed already?” You replied, showing him your incorrectly spelt name.

“Haha…my name is Marie” Jäger blurted out.  
Mike fiddled with his takeaway coffee cup, looking for his name.

“Mick. Wow they went above and fookin’ beyond for that” everyone started laughing at their incorrectly spelt names. Then came Collinn.

“See, this is why I like Starbucks. They don’t try and change my name to something else, they just spell it with an extra N. Jokes on them, it’s how you spell it.”

“They only spell it ‘correctly’ because your parents couldn’t bloody spell your name correctly when writing it on your birth certificate” it was a fast reply but you were promptly slapped across the back of the head by Mike, who was still trying his best not to laugh. Bandit choked on his drink and nearly dropped it, everyone else was trying their best to keep themselves composed. Warden didn’t look to impressed though, so you backed off a bit and a small, almost unnoticeable from crossed your lips. Thinking to yourself, “I should stop with the witty remarks, people already hate me for it.”

The mood quietly dropped off and changed, small chatter continued, you all finished your drinks rather quietly.

“Are you happy now, Princess?” This time it was Marius poking fun at Dominic. He was staring at him, whilst grabbing his hand and holding it like he was ready to kiss it. Bandit pulled his hand away and flicked Jäger on his forehead, before commenting.

“Ich werde dich in das Schattenreich schlagen, Marius” (I’ll beat you into the shadow realm, Marius). Giggles broke out after their back and forth bickering and finally everyone decided to get up and head back to the cars.

Mike walked off ahead first though, at the sight of three guys stood around your car. A blacked out Audi S3 had parked next to you. Two of the guys wore hoods, and it all looked suspicious. They were staring in to the car, having a good look inside.

The older man approached them, and he is an intimidating man when he needs to be.

“Can I help you three?” He asked. Voice deep and clear.

“Just looking, it’s a familiar car, familiar number plate. Sorry.” Replied one of the guys.

That voice, you’ve heard it before. It was a little quiet from where you were, and one of the guys were stood in front of the registration plate. You couldn’t make out their faces either.

You finally caught up to Thatcher, and got a better listen to the three guys.

“What’s occurring then, Mike?” You asked, looking around to the three who you didn’t recognise, that was until the two with their hoods up let them down.

“I’ll let ya talk to them, sweet” Mike stood aside and you took his spot, only to be stood with your mouth gaping like an idiot.

“(Y/n)? Mate, where have you been?! I…we haven’t seen you in months? You just disappeared man, why did you go?” One of them started choking up, voice cracking when he realised that he’d found you. It was your 3 closest friends, you’ve known them all through your shitty childhood, and grew up with them in your old village. How did they find you? Things got emotional from here on, you were shocked.

“J-Jordan? Olly? Dave? What? Wh-why…how did you find me? I thought I said goodbye before I left…” you couldn’t believe it. You thought the car was familiar to you, and the voices.  
The three of them came up to you and embraced you in a group hug. You couldn’t believe that they were here.

“You didn’t see us before you left. We last saw you on the news, and…you just seemed to vanish man. All I heard was that you were in hospital after being shot, and I honestly thought you had died, but there wasn’t anything else suggesting that you did. We visited a few times but you were completely out. One day we visited but you apparently came through and recovered, so we went home. One day your car had gone and no one answered when I came around to check on you.”  
Jordan was a little upset, which is rare for him, he’s a strong lad and never lets his emotions get over him. But this time was different. It felt nice. Letting your own emotions flow too.

“I’ve been talking in the group chat so of course I didn’t die, and I’m still here!” Laughing a little at the realisation helped lift the mood.

“Yeah I know. But when we asked where you had gone you’d just say you’ve gone out and you’re busy. But you’re here, and we never saw you from then.”

You didn’t know if you can disclose your current situation with others from the ‘outside’ world.

“But how come you were looking into the car? Did you not think that it looks suspect?”

“We were trying to see if we could see anything else that could identify that it was you. You left an ID card on the dash by the way you melon”

Shit. Your security card, that’d give away a lot.  
You looked to Mike, and asked, “Can I tell them?”

“Tell us?”

“As long as they keep their mouth fookin’ shut, otherwise I’d have to kill them if word gets out.” A small smirk graced the older man’s rough features.

“Are we not supposed to know?” Dave asked

They looked a little shocked, but you can trust them. Besides, Mike’s tone was verging on the jokey side, so you didn’t worry. They’re your closest friends. They hold many secrets of yours and you hold theirs, and they’ve never let anything slip before, so why not.

“What is it bro?”

“I…can I really disclose this kind of thing?” You looked to your lover once again, needing his approval. “Yes, you can tell them, just not how to get to the base, and disclosed mission details” Mike gave you a pat on the back and a genuine smile. “I work. Near here. For a global Counter Terrorism Unit, known as Rainbow Six-“

“Haha, Rainbow, sounds gay”

“Right shut up Olly, but yeah. This came about after the terrorist attack at the bank. Did the news only say that I nearly died? Or did they also include the fact that I nearly died taking them all with me?”

“Sounds pretty Hollywood to me not gonna lie” Jordan chuckles.

“Exactly what I thought to myself honestly. But since then, I got a visit from the director at Team Rainbow. Told me they wanted to try something, so here I am, the odd one out of the bunch, waiting to get shot at again, but being prepared for it the next time” you were all still rather emotional but laughing at the same time. You weren’t sure about how to explain it all. It’s still all surreal to you, and you’re still baffled as to how you’re here. It left you confused, and genuinely thought that you were dreaming, and that you’re still in the hospital in a coma, but you aren’t. This is real.

“So you say Counter Terrorism Unit, like the SAS?” Dave asked. He was once an army cadet years ago, and for years wanted to enlist, but lost interest.

“Mike here is ex-SAS. Each of them were from CTU’s across the world and such. I’m the odd one out obviously, I got dragged into it because my suicidal arse full sent it at some terrorists and apparently I did a good job at it.” You explained, slightly gesturing to the man who towered over you.

“That’s pretty fucking cool not going to lie!” Dave was quite visibly excited at this new information.

The others joined soon after and introduced themselves.

“Hallo, Marius here, this is Princess Dom-“ 

*smack*

“Hör auf, mich Prinzessin zu nennen, du verdammter Schwanz!” (Stop calling me princess you fucking dick!) Dom was getting a little irate at the name calling, but it was all in good humour.

The three we’re pretty stoked to be introduced to these operatives. Learning about the SAS, GSG9, SAT and Secret Service was quite entertaining for them. Not many people will get an inside look to the professionals work life, but it was quiet enough that no one else would hear, and they trusted those three as you did with your entire heart. Comfortable enough to let them in on a few things within Team Rainbow.

Realising one of your questions wasn’t answered, you spoke up, “How did you find me still?” asking the three, wanting to know how it is that you’re all about one hundred miles from ‘home’ and bumped into each other.

“Dave suggested a day out in Hereford a week ago, so were here. I think it’s just luck that we found each other” Olly spoke up, pointing to Dave who was just stood looking around mindlessly.

“I still can’t believe it. I’m sorry I left though. I just didn’t think about it, and wanted to get away from my problems as well. I couldn’t stand living in that house anymore. I’d have nightmares every night.” The three of them knew your entire past, and that’s something they’ve kept hold of for all the years you’ve known them. They don’t ever bring it up around strangers, and never told anyone else that you don’t want knowing. It’s half a reason you can trust them with your life.

After a few minutes of gawking and chatter, you asked the other operatives what they wanted to do now, nearing lunchtime it felt appropriate to suggest getting some food. Asking if it’s okay if your three friends come along. It’s a catch up you need desperately, and you felt happy being around them. Who knows when you’ll next see them, if at all?

Luckily they all agreed, and Mike was the one who seemed the most positive about it, encouraging them to follow along.

All getting into your cars, you agreed to follow Collinn to a nice restaurant half way across Hereford. You were behind the American man, your friends behind you.

“Was it okay to tell my friends all of that? I thought that’d be a bit much information isn’t it?” You asked, a little worried still. You can trust them fully, but for them to be that open about it was a surprise.

“Matey, it’s not much to worry about. We tend not to tell people just in case the wrong person hears. I can trust those three, I can tell through you directly, your composure around them tells a lot.”

You thought whether that was a good or a bad thing, that Thatcher can gain so much information through you from such simple things like that.  
The drive to the next spot wasn’t very long, ending up in a multi story car park.

The walk to the restaurant was uneventful, and you all got seated rather quickly.  
Once everyone was seated, you and your friends got to catching up properly.  
The small questions came and went, and small stories were shared.  
Drinks and food was ordered at some point, and it arrived almost unnoticed as you were too engrossed in your friends stories, listening to all the things you missed out on.

Then came the question that you knew was coming.  
“So what happened at the bank during the terrorist attack. What did you do?!” Dave maybe sounded too eager to hear, and got a little loud, but, you couldn’t leave them out of it.

“I’ll try my best to fill you in, but my mind is a little foggy on it all.” You admitted, feeling a hand touch your knee and slide up your thigh, giving it a little squeeze under the table.

“If you forget anything, I can fill in. I’ve seen the CCTV footage, so I’ve seen it all.” That was news to you, that there was CCTV footage of that day that Thatcher has watched. Does Rainbow have possession of it?

Taking a sip of your drink, clearing your throat, you took a second to think back.

“So, this is what happened…”


	10. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back on what happened on the day that got the interest of Six and Specialist Baker.

It was a surprise to see that even some of the operators didn’t know the entire story, and having them lean in to listen got your nerves up a little bit.

“Some of you don’t know the story of the Valentines Day attack?” You asked. It was weird that some of them didn’t.

“Alright, well, basically. It was a nice birthday present if I say so, the warm embrace of death seemed fitting for my 21st…”

“Alright edgy just get on with the story” Across the table from you was Dave, who was smiling at his own comment.

“Suck your mum, I’m getting there!” This got your 3 friends laughing as well as you.

“Told you that you sound like a chav when you’re angry.”

Your head turned ever so slowly to the hirsute man next to you in such suspense, it was almost comical.

“Mike, I will bite your dick off”

“You had the perfect chance this morning darling. But what would you suck on then if you did?”

Bandit, as alway, choosing the wrong time to take a sip of his drink as he choked on it and almost spat it everywhere when he snorted. Jäger just slammed his head on the table, laughing whilst your three friends looked on almost awkwardly at what they could easily take as your ‘coming out’. They don’t know that you’re gay.

“Jesus Christ Mike, too far. Right. Story time”  
Trying your best to avoid any further embarrassment and humiliation, you tried changing back to the story as soon as.

———

_“What do you mean my account is being temporarily suspended? I called beforehand and explained that there’s no suspicious activity. I confirmed all the purchases! I keep all of my money in this account, and you’re just going to hold it like that?” You’re trying your best to keep your cool, but the assistant wasn’t cooperating._

_“Sir, we have reason to suspect that this purchase wasn’t made by you, this is for your account safety” she replied, putting on a visibly fake smile._

_“I-just...how?! I. Confirmed. The. Purchase. You’re having me on now. Sorry, excuse my language...how do you fuck up this badly? The whole point of me confirming it is so I don’t get locked out of my current account!” You were enraged now, and getting slightly distraught at the situation you were being placed in._

_“I know you’re annoyed, its a difficult process. We believe that it wasn’t the card holder who confirmed the purchase.”_

_You pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly losing faith.  
“So someone managed to get past all of my personal security questions? The purchase in question was from a company called Nengun Performance, correct?” You asked. _

_She hesitated, “Yes, correct.”_

_“It was made with this card to this name?”_

_“Correct.”_

_“Then what’s the problem? Do you want my drivers license too?” Pulling out a white/pinkish card._

_“That won’t be necessa-” the woman behind the security wall stopped mid sentence. The sound of screaming and gunfire rang out throughout the bank that you were in. Turning around you see people running aimlessly, panicking._

_Your eyes widened in horror, seeing bodies fall to the floor, blood painting the tiles red._  
_There were about 20 of these men all wielding different weapons, with similar hooded clothing and protective trousers. Each sporting a white mask. Is this a gang? Some sort of robbery? Terrorists? They came in, shooting. No questions asked. No orders. Just cold murder._

_But it came to a stop, and they gathered up every one of you._  
_Was this it?_  
_All of you were on your knees. People crying, others screaming. A few looking away, and a couple others just stared them down._  
You didn’t make a sound.  
Just looked them dead in the eye. 

__

_You were ready to leave this world, but you weren’t going out without doing something._  
_Watching them converse between each other, pointing and making all different gestures you didn’t understand. The tension in the air was dense, and the atmosphere was cold  
But suddenly, most of them left all of you in the room. Just two of the white masks were entrusted with watching over the hostages._

_“Fucking brilliant,” you thought. “Just what I needed…shit. Fuck. Shit shit shit! Think…”_

_You waited._  
_1._  
_2._  
_3._  
_4._  
_5._  
_6._  
_7.  
_8.__

_____ _

_There’s a small time gap you could take advantage of. The one other terrorist would often turn his back and wonder to the back door where the rest of them went._

_Thinking straight whilst everyone else was panicking and crying, you kept your head together, you could take one on easily in hand to hand. Two wouldn’t usually be an issue, but with firearms in the mix, you can’t risk it. You have to be quick, and precise. If you take too long, the other one may notice, and land a shot on you._

_Watching again, they were mere metres from you, then you saw the same guy turn on his heel again and go to check out his usual spot._

_NOW!_

_You jumped up, running to the closest of them. He turned around as he heard your movements. Swinging the handgun around to connect with your head, but he missed. You went for his arm but missed. Not good._

_“This is why I spent years wasting my time learning how to kick people in the face in 1000 different ways” You thought to yourself. Feeling cocky, ducking under his attack, you spring up and thrust your knee into his stomach, pushing him back, you gained enough space to wind up for a 360 tornado roundhouse, all the while being mindful of the position of the second terrorist as his attention was now on you two.. You made sure that the one you had engaged in hand to hand was directly between you and the other. You can see the terrorist struggling to take the shot, not wanting to shoot his own._

_You landed a couple more hits before he got enough distance to pull out his handgun again, but you closed the gap quick enough to land 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 hits, a mix of fists, palms and elbows. All very short and quick movements, hitting his pressure points. This was the opportunity, you grabbed the gun and twisted his arm, bringing an elbow down onto his joint._  
_It forced him to let go of the gun, but then you made a fatal mistake, kicking him to the side and leaving you open._  
_*Bang*_ _The one to the left that you kicked away, dead._  
_*Bang bang bang*_  
_*Bang*_  
_The one ahead, dead._  
_The room was clear of the terrorists, but you knew that the commotion wouldn’t of gone unheard. One man who was hidden behind a desk hit the alarm, and others were on their phones instantly. You looked towards the hostages, to realise something was wrong. They looked at you terrified._  
Looking down you see blood, pooling at your feet. No dead bodies close to you, where was it coming from? Upon further inspection, you saw your shirt was slowly changing colour. Your favourite white shirt with the blue print on the front, ruined. The colour slowly turning red, three holes ripped through it.  
Then it dawned on you. You’ve been shot 3 times. How are you still standing? That’s all you thought in that second. The adrenaline kicked in ages ago, and you’re still standing, you don’t feel anything yet. The realisation just that second made you decide your next action. 

____

__

_Looking towards the worried hostages in front of you, you couldn’t help but say, “Fuck! I’m sorry…” it was a pained sorry too, you felt like you let everyone down. Who knows how this is going to go._

_You kept your stance though, and tried toughing it out, prepared to drop any minute, but holding onto every bit of strength you have._  
_Turning to the other hostages, that you once were, you spoke up with a smug grin on your face, blood slowly seeping between your lips, “Not to sound Hollywood, but it’s my time I guess...” You called it, this was the day you die._  
_You said you wont go down without fighting.  
The sound of heavy footsteps rushing back to the room you were all held, so you decided to move yourself to them. You don’t want the others to get caught in the crossfire. _

__

__

_*Cough*_

_Now you felt it. The dull pain in your stomach, slowing intensifying. The taste of iron in your mouth became stronger and you felt physically sick. Even more blood slowly trickling from the corners of your lips.  
But you must continue on. This is your purpose._

_Staring at the gun in your hand, it was familiar. A Beretta M92F. You never fired a real gun before, but it felt exactly the same as your old airsoft M92F. Thinking back to those days with your friends, they were good, some of the most fun you ever had, spending hours on the weekends with your mates and people you’ve never met before. The closest thing you could ever get to a handgun in the UK._  
_The weight was just like your imitation you had, the grip was no different, the iron sights you were already accustomed to. The only thing that felt different now was the recoil.  
But it was easy to get a feel for. _

__

_Then you opened the door to the bright hallways, their hurried footsteps fast approaching. The lights almost blinding. Squinting, you tried adjusting quickly, you were going to do something today.  
You will die fighting a hero._

_With whatever strength that you somehow regained, you pushed on through, taking cover as the first couple came around the corner. Using the reflection from one of the windows of these small office rooms. You saw that they weren’t focusing on your side.  
Springing out from behind the wall, you took aim and shot both of the terrorists dead, before moving on, deeper into the building. _

__

_One more came towards you at full speed, but no gun. One hand came out from behind his back as you went to engage him in hand to hand, to see he has a knife. This changed everything for you. What you were about to do was completely off the cards, and you only had a split second to react. As the terrorists right arm came forward, lunging at you with the blade, you stepped your left foot forward so your back was to the side of his attacking arm. With your left hand, a satisfying slap cracked through the air as you placed the back of your hand on his joint, and pushed outwards and to the left to divert his arm in a single palm pak sao, finishing off by quick switching your stance with a clockwise 180 rotation, and striking the white mask with a Tetsuzankō. Whilst he stumbled back you took the chance to dash him, twisting his arm that held the blade, and taking possession of the item, before bringing it across his throat in lightning fast movements. It was disgusting to see, as he choked and gurgled on his blood, unable to breathe before dying in front of you.  
But you did what you could to keep everyone else safe._

_Taking a second to regain yourself, you noticed that they weren’t coming anymore. They were waiting for you instead. Forcing you further into the building.  
You could just wait for them to come to you, or head back. Surely the police, or some counter terrorism unit will be here soon. But you knew you were dying, and you promised yourself that you won’t go down without a fight._

_Picking yourself up, you felt light, a little dizzy and your vision was slowly, very slowly blacking out. You didn’t have much time left to do something. Everything seemed to be in slow motion._

_Looking down to your shirt to see it almost completely red, and blood splattered on the floors and walls from your coughing fits. A trail of red followed you wherever you went, but you didn’t care. You slapped yourself mentally and moved your legs. It was still surprisingly easy once you got going. It’s like the adrenaline in you is always there, and that you could tap into it at will. But how much adrenaline do you have is a question that popped into your mind. Once you were out, you’re fucked. If you run out before you can kill the rest of the white masks, then you’ll just be one body amongst the pile of innocents that would surely follow._

_This feeling that courses through your veins made you second guess your outlook on life. Did you really want to end it? Is it worth it now that you’re slowly on the way out?  
“But no one will miss me. It’s not like I’ve got to think of anyone else. If I die, no one will care and no one will know. I’ve got this to make myself known and I’ll be better off dead” these intrusive thoughts always seemed to outweigh any others you may have._

_Depression is one tough son of a bitch, and mixed with a deadly concoction of many other serious mental issues caused by years of abuse and neglect only breeds suicidal tendencies that never leave your mind. They only get pushed to the back, where you hoped that one day, someone would be able to take that spot and throw them out, to slowly mend your mind._

_But there’s no chance for that. Not now, not ever. Your last breath will be taken today so everyone else can keep breathing for your sake._

_Approaching the stairs, you had a moment to plan how to take this next floor. You didn’t know how many more were here. A split second goes by and you decide to drag one body over to the lift next to the stairs. Putting the body in and pressing the button to send it to the next floor. Whilst that happened, you carefully crept up the steps, luckily none of them had thought to watch them, you could see though that a few were stood in the hallway, and had made their way over to the elevator as they noticed it was on its way. More of the white masks on the other side made their way over too, waiting for someone to come out once it arrives._

_Leaning against the wall out of sight, you waited for the doors to open, the robotic, womanly voice called out the floor number after the familiar ding to signal the doors opening. You could hear muttering and cursing as they saw the body in the elevator, gathering around to the otherwise empty metal box. Taking the chance to come out from cover and make a run to the other side of the hallway. You didn’t have the ammo to take on five at once, so instead you hoped to dip past to find some more of them, hopefully on their own._

_To your delight, you went unnoticed and soon found just a single white mask stood in a doorway, peeking in. You didn’t want to risk botching an attack with the knife, figuring that with a single shot, you’ll bring the attention to you, but hopefully by then will have secured enough ammo to take them on._

_*Bang*_

_Dropped to the floor and you quickly got to the ground to search his pouches and pockets.  
You could easily just take the gun he had on him, but the dead terrorist carried extra magazines for the M92F, 4 extra. Which gave you an extra 60 rounds to work with, on top of the 8 that you had left in your current mag._

_Sure enough the rumbling of 10 legs making their way to the sound became louder, and you prepared yourself by leaning against the wall around the corner. The room to your right was unlocked, meaning you could make a dip into there in case things got hairy._

_Closer, closer, closer._  
_You took a deep breath, once again prepared to drop like a sack of potatoes when a bullet finds your forehead._  
_Exiting the cover you caught the closest ones off guard and took a few shots, 5 precisely._  
_Two dropped to the floor._  
Getting back into cover you blind fired the last 3 in hoped that they hit. One did, but it wasn’t a fatal wound. You released the magazine and promptly loaded another one, letting the slide back into place. This time you peaked around the corner and took 3 more shots, dropping one more of them to the ground. 2 more to go.  
But it wasn’t safe for you to sit behind the wall. They fired shots off that whizzed past you, and they would probably blind fire you down if you don’t get out of there.

____

__

_Retreating back into the room you found a large metal topped desk/cabinet drawer combo. Heavy and could probably stop a bullet, you used whatever strength you could to drag it out and flip it on its side for cover._  
Quick thinking though had you ducking elsewhere for cover. The crashing sound of the desk would make it obvious to them where you’re hiding.  
_So you dragged an office chair to the door and placed it so that it would stop the door before you stopped it with your body. You’d hope that one or both of them would come in to see the desk, and ignore looking behind the door, wishing that the chair would make them think it’s just that in the way._

_You stood in wait, which felt like forever, but in reality was only less than a minute later. The door cracked open and the barrel of a gun was seen poking through, the slowly opened the door until the chair stopped it, and the both entered. They didn’t look further than just the chair, and the desk was far enough back that they ended up both in front of you with their backs turned whilst the slowly approached the desk with their guns drawn. The door closed quickly with a loud clang._

_*Bang* one dropped and you were already on the other with the knife, jabbing it in his abdomen before yanking it out and jamming it in their bicep._

_*Bang*_

_The second one dropped down cold, and you scoured their pockets again for anything you might be able to use._

__

_*Cough* _You couldn’t stop it, uncontrollably sputtering and choking. Blood spilled out everywhere, and the throbbing pain returned._ _

__

__

_“F…f-fuck. I don’t have lon-achhhgghh-fuck,” you were learnt against the wall, seething, as another coughing fit came up, this time the pain was 50 times worse than the last. But that was enough for you to snap out of your slowing daze. You kept telling yourself to stay awake, don’t let the darkness overwhelm you._

_The pain wouldn’t subside but it made you push on. Deeper and deeper again. It felt like an endless wave of terrorists, and somehow you’d take them down with ease. “Is this what the adrenaline does to me?” You questioned._

_Everything really felt like it was in slow motion. You could read their movements from a mile off, and counter them within a split second. Your accuracy was dead on, and this was the first time you’ve ever come in contact with a live firearm. The pain never dulled down, but you soldiered on, every punch they threw never even made contact. Every shot they fired went right past you, every single time you’d come around a corner, you’d see flashes of the future ahead, and once you finish off the white mask in front, you feel the sense of déjà vu. “I already did that didn’t I?” You’d do everything twice, but it didn’t faze you._

~~

_“5 minutes until arrival. Estimated 28 white masks. Confirmation on 7 civilian fatalities and 12 injured. 2 white masks are dead, 1 civilian severely injured and moving throughout the building after taking two of them down. White shirt, denim jeans and black trainers. Young, white male, short brown hair.  
Reported that there is still gunfire as of now. Whether it’s the civilian or the terrorists, we don’t know.”_

__

__

_“28 roughly? Seems like it’s going to be a tough one. Anyone get a description of the wounds that were inflicted to the civilian?”_

__

__

_“3 gunshot wounds to the abdomen and stomach. Told there’s a lot of blood, so I’m afraid it’s looking rather bleak for the poor fooker. Possible that a vital organ has been struck as the blood loss indicates, and I don’t want to say it, but I won’t be surprised to find him only a few corridors away from where it kicked off, but I can only hope that he’s somehow withstanding it.”_

__

__

_A small silence fills the helicopter of military specialists, before the team leader speaks up again._

__

_“Kateb, you and Touré take the ground, attend to the wounded and get a headcount. Maktoub and Cohen, start from the bottom and make your way to the mid. I’ll go from the top down.”_

__

_“Baker, you shouldn’t go alone.”_

__

_“Don’t worry about me Touré, I’ll be perfectly fine. I’ll be on comms in case anything goes tits up.”_

__

__

_“I’ll hold us 45ft above the roof. I recommend ground team take the roof and rappel the side wall”_

__

__

_“Thank you Streicher.”_

__

__

_The building came into site, police cars and ambulances surrounded the bank. Every officer and paramedic on standby, the entire site cordoned off._

__

__

_“Right lads and ladies, operative names from here on out. Stay alert. Quick check over, and go!”_

__

__

_Within minutes the five of them had rappelled down from the helicopter, soon leaving Baker alone on the roof._

__

__

_“Comms check. Doc, Montagne, Nomad, Ash, do you copy?”_

__

__

_“Copy that, Thatcher, you’re all set”_  
“Copy”  
“Copy that”  
“Copy that”  
“All linked up, loud and clear.” 

_Thatcher entered the roof access to an incredibly quiet and almost eerie setting. Everything seemed calm. Too calm._

__

__

_At the bottom of the bank, the four others had entered. Speaking with the officers on scene, telling them to wait until further instruction.  
Doc and Montagne made their way to the hostages and wounded, whilst Ash and Nomad carried on through the busted door where a small blood trail had been left. The bodies of white masks littered the corridors, blood splattered across the walls and floor._

__

__

_Montagne didn’t have his shield extended, but was ready with it in case. Doc was seeing to the wounded, and luckily the wounds here were rather minimal, and the commotion had calmed down. There weren’t any gunshots, no hurried feet or panicked calls from the comms._

__

__But the eerie calmness seemed, off. It was only moments ago that they had confirmed there were still active shooters, but they can’t hear the sort, nor see anything._ _

__Progressing further into the building, Nomad and Ash only found bodies and blood. No trace of life behind the busted doors._ _

__Thatcher wasn't having any luck, the top two floors were completely clear, other than a few doors smashed in and broken windows. No person stood, just bodies of white masks._ _

__“Thatcher, how’s it looking? I’m not finding anything. There’s just blood and bodies here, I can’t find anyone. No sign of the rogue civilian. No signs of terrorists. I’ve counted 12 dead including the two in the lobby”_ _

__“Not a fookin’ thing here either. Counted 15 dead, two wearing bloody suicide vests. Estimated 28 leaves 1 more to find. I’m just about to reach the 4td floor. Once you clear 3rd, regroup with Doc and Montagne and see to the civilians.”_ _

__“Thatcher, Ash, Nomad. The estimated 28 terrorists is a confirmed number of 28. A surviving employee accessed the CCTV and counted them upon entrance. Estimated 1 tango is confirmed to be the last.”_ _

__“Thank you, Montagne.”_ _

__Once Ash and Nomad reached the end of the third floor, they did as they were ordered and returned. Still no sign of life, and the blood trail that had followed got worse as they went up. Noticing that the trail leads up another flight of stairs, they almost went against orders to check it out, but Thatcher was already there by now, and disobeying him would probably get them a small bollocking._ _

_”Regrouping with Doc and Montagne. No signs of life what so ever. Take care, Thatcher”_

_“Of course”_

_To the British Operative’s surprise, the fourth floor was very quiet too. But rounding a corner a head he saw what looked like a bloodbath, without the dead bodies. Red, viscous liquid smeared all along the wall and the floor, what look to be footprints and soon after, hand prints, painted the marble tiles. The rooms were clear, checking each and every one of them on his journey through the fourth floor._

_“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED?! HUH?! You couldn’t kill me, I couldn’t kill me, they couldn’t kill me! They’re dead! All of them!” The shouts were heard loud and clear, but to his trained ears, Thatcher could tell that the voice was off. The slight coughs and sputters. Slight gurgling like they’re choking. But who it was he didn’t know. His gun at the ready to face the last terrorist, who sounds like he’s on the way out._

_The deathly voice cackled in what sounds to be a sadistic laughter, then sobs. Loud, dying sobs._

_“I SENT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM TO HELL! MY TIME HAS FUCK-achhh-ing COME! I’LL FUCKING DIG FROM MY GRAVE STRAIGHT TO HELL JUST TO FUCKING GET BACK AT YOU FOR WHAT YOU PUT ME THR-“ another coughing fit came about in the rage of the unknown man. The voice echoing off the walls._

_“I’ll send you to the afterlife twice you CUNTS!”_

_Then silence. The sound of a body slumping against the wall and hitting the ground rang out through the cold, dead atmosphere._

_Not taking any chances, Thatcher continued down the hall with his gun drawn, ready to face what was to come around the corner._

_Through the man’s mask, eyes met with cold, dead brown orbs. Short brown hair, white T-Shirt stained red in blood, the three bullet holes were visible and the blue denim jeans and black trainers matching the description of the civilian.  
In his hand he held an M92F and across from him was the last terrorist, collapsed against the wall with a bullet wound to the head, and 7 to the chest. Cuts up and down his arm and a knife embedded in his throat._

_“16 confirmed white masks down. 28 total dead. No threat remains in the vicinity. I have the civilian in sight, I think he just passed. No visible movement or sign of life. Description matches. I’m sorry.” The sorrow in the British operator’s voice was apparent, he felt cheated. He was too late._

_Those last words, what did they mean? Did this one man take on all of these white masks alone, even after suffering fatal wounds? He sounded like he was ready to go out of this world young, and that is a heart wrenching thing to hear. He looks young, way too young to consider risking his innocent life like this._

_Approaching the supposedly deceased civilian to get a full ID on him, Thatcher noticed that his chest was very slightly rising and falling. He was still breathing. God knows how though._

_“Fook, he’s still alive. Shit…” it came as a short panic as Thatcher couldn’t possibly move the man himself without possibly damaging him anymore, but waiting on Doc, or any of the EMT’s on standby wouldn’t simply sit. He didn’t have long. But as his life was still on the line, without a second thought, Thatcher picked up the civilian as gently yet as firmly as possible, and tried to rush him to the medic._

_The young man still had enough in him to try and speak. He must of used the rest of his energy to let out his final cry moments ago._

_“Go…get out of h-h-here. I got them, I-I’m done for” so barely noticeable but the way the Brit held onto the man, his voice was in his ear._

_“Nonsense, kid. You’re getting out of here alive, believe me.” Thatcher said what he could hope for, trying to relieve the younger man of any stresses and worries. Reassuring him that he’ll be alright._

_“Doc, I need you urgently. Civilian is still alive, but we don’t have much time. I’m gambling here by bringing him to you. We need EMT’s ready ASAP. If I waited, he would be gone, so the chance I’m taking is the only one we have. Copy that?”_

_But there wasn’t an immediate response._

_“Doc, do you copy?”_

_“Doc?!”_

_“Fook sake…KATEB! DO YOU COPY? THIS IS URGENT!” Thatcher barked, his patience ran out quick, breaking the rule of not using operatives real names on the field._

_But instead of waiting for a response, Thatcher held on to the civilian, holding him close, hoping that it will keep him secured and warm as his body slowly became colder and colder._  
In the event that he doesn’t make it, the Brit will hope that being close to him in his passing gives him comfort. No one innocent deserves to be alone in the final hour. Even if Thatcher himself, for the past decade or so, chooses to keep to himself, always busy at work and not wanting to pay any attention to any other person other than himself.  
It wouldn’t sit right with him if he let this man die alone now. 

_Upon reaching the final stretch of the ground floor hallway, Thatcher was greeted by Ash and Nomad, but ignored them completely, taking the casualty straight to the lobby.  
There, many innocents who were waiting for the clear watched as Thatcher slowly carried the lifeless looking body through to the medic. People stood, sadness struck across their face seeing this young man like that. They didn’t know he’s still barely alive._

_Some started crying, others clapped quietly. They all tried their best to show their grief and respect to the fallen who risked his life to save everyone else._

_One man spoke up from the crowd, visibly upset to see the lifeless ‘corpse’ of the young man._

_“It…it isn’t like Hollywood movies though is it, kid? Where the hero comes back with a smile on his face…fuck. I’m sorry, mate. I’ll remember you, and I’ll live on for you. Thank you.” The waterworks started and he was quickly consoled by the other survivors around him.  
The whole ordeal was an emotional cluster fuck, and the ‘death’ of this otherwise unknown man touched the hearts of the few that bared witness to it all in person._

_“Doc! HE’S STILL BREATHING I NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE ASAP!” The SAS operative shouted, which gained the attention of the busy medic, as well as the crowd._

_“Hey, c’mon man I’m in pain here you can’t ju-,”_

_One injured man was cut short of his miniature rant as his eyes laid its gaze on the dying man in the arms of the Brit._

_“-shiiiiiiit.” He was clearly gobsmacked to see that face again, though this time his face lacked any sort of life, leaving the injured man to immediate take back what he was saying._

_“Montagne, call in the paramedics. Let them know that the building is a non hostile zone. It’s clear, police and free to enter, too.”_

_Doc was already off to the new casualty, preparing his stim to try and keep the young man’s heart beating. Though with the loss of blood, it’s going to be a tricky task at hand._

_Carefully did Thatcher place the limp body down, pulling out the knife from his sleeve sheath. Cutting the shirt down the middle to open up the area for Doc to get to work. Starting with the stim shot._

_“Thatcher, he’s not breathing. You need to give mouth to mouth for a few minutes, his heart is still pumping but I’ll need to do an emergency blood transfusion once I ‘plug’ these wounds up. There’s not much I can do at the moment though, the bullets are lodged inside, there’s no exit wounds. Give me a few minutes and I’ll find his blood type. Once he’s cleaned up and patched, I’ll get to work on a temporary blood transfusion, which hopefully should be enough to keep him alive until he reaches a hospital”_

_Without hesitation, Thatcher removed his mask, revealing his weathered features, bushy brows and short brown hair. Flecks of salt and pepper sprinkled throughout. The most perfectly kept beard anyone have set their eyes on, fuzzy and soft. Lips came to lips as the veteran operative got to work, keeping the young man alive._

_Minutes passed that felt like hours. Warmth slowly returned to the almost lifeless body, and his breathing became stable._

_“I’ll never get used to the taste of someone else’s blood, but ignoring that, you’re very sweet” it was an incredibly inappropriate comment, but it was kept to Thatcher’s thoughts. Doc soon took over though, leaving Thatcher to wander the lobby for a few minutes, looking for anything that may belong to the younger man, considering that he had nothing in his pockets at all must mean he left something lying about._

_It wasn’t long until a wallet, phone, driving license and keys was in sight, on top of the clerks counter, where the younger man must have been before everything kicked off._

_“Definitely his. (Y/n) eh? That’s a name to remember…isn’t that address the-” Thatcher was too busy reading all the details on the boy’s license that he didn’t notice Doc until he felt him tapping his shoulder._

_“AB+ is his blood type. Universal which is good, but for safe measures, I’m going to ask you to help me out here Thatcher. I don’t know why, but it’s just a little something in me just nagging me.”_

_“Donating blood has never really been much of my thing, but I’ll do it this once,” holding up the young man’s possessions to Doc to see, specifically his car keys. “Your hunch better be right, Kateb. Because I’ll be waiting to hear him return home one day so I can give him his car back. In the meantime, I’ll look after it.”_

_“Thatch, you can’t just take his car!”_

_“I’m not stealing it, Doc. You know I also hold the power of the law in my hands, as do you. I’m merely taking it to the base for safe keeping.”_

_“You could word that better, Baker. But you’re right.” Montagne came over, jumping in before the other Frenchman could say anything._

_“That address…on his license. That’s…”_

_“Yeah, poor fooker. It’s half the reason I said, I’m going to deliver his car to him when he’s released from the hospital. That’s when, Doc. I know he’s perfectly fine in your hands.”_

_Almost immediately after that, the three returned to the almost lifeless body, where two paramedics watched over, trying to strap him on to a stretcher._

_“Just a little prick, Mike. I won’t need much to keep him alive.”_

__~~_ _

__

_Cold, so very cold. Dizzy, dark, tired, wet. Cold.  
Freezing._

_You let out a yelp, with whatever strength you had left, screaming out your ‘last words’, swearing revenge on your so called parents. Never a believer of religion, the afterlife or anything else like that. But you swore down to Earth that once you’re buried 6ft under, you will dig down to hell and make your ‘parents’ go through hell again._

_You looked back in life, prepared to finally go to sleep. Reliving the nightmares, you wanted it to end quickly. These nightmares are enough to leave you in peace as you approach your final hour.  
But the few good memories, your friends, the fun times you’d have with them, and your car. You loved your car. It would give you something to do, and driving was an escape. Maybe you don’t want to go? The negatives outweigh the positives, but then again, if you live on, maybe it’d get better?_

_But you knew it was too late. You’re going to die here, alone. But you did something. You didn’t die for nothing. Counting every single one that you killed. 28. The last one right across you. Your arms and head hurt, the terrorist managed to get a few hits on you, and cut you a couple times with his knife. But you got him. He’s dead. They’re all dead. You’re dead._

_Footsteps? Was there one more? No. There can’t be. Otherwise everyone else will die too. But you can’t move, your arms and legs feel like they’re pinned to the ground, and you couldn’t see much at all. The figure that arrived wasn’t the same colour. Dark, navy blue fatigues, and you could barely make out a Military Medal ribbon on his left breast and Union Jack flags on each arm._

_You could barely hear him talk, you kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He had an unmistakable British accent too.  
A mild panic escaped him as he realised you’re still breathing._

_Next thing you know, you’re in his arms being carried down the stairs whilst he talks to you with reassuring words. You felt warm in his arms as he held you close, trying to keep you secure and warm. You liked this guy already, you weren’t going to be alone when you die. Maybe that time is now, as everything that wasn’t already dark, faded to black and you couldn’t hear anything anymore. You couldn’t feel anything.  
There was nothing._


	11. Moods

“From then on I don’t remember much else. I woke up in the hospital a little over a month later, they kept me in a medically induced coma due to some complications, but I made a full recovery pretty quickly after that.”

“That’s mad…how the fuck do you manage to tank all of that?!”  
Your friends were rightfully confused. You don’t know how you managed to keep going either, and better yet take down 28 terrorists on your own.

“It’s why I, and Six took interest in you, (Y/n). The sheer determination and will power you possess is something a lot on Team Rainbow lack.” Mike cut in, giving his own piece on the reasoning for your hiring.

“But, if you’re all comprised of elite CTU’s across the world, then how does one without any of the experience even garner the interest of the highest ups in the ‘elite-elite club’?” Dave asked this time.

“Six is dabbling with the idea of a civilian R6 team. Those recruits would be trained by the likes of me, and even Brunsmeier here. More or less to be used as a home defence squad, leaving us more experienced operatives free in case of large attacks across the globe. I rejected the idea then, and even now couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t bare the responsibility of many innocents who may lose their life out there, as it is almost opposite of what Rainbow is. Making an exception for (Y/n) here, but I can easily train him up to standards in one-on-one sessions. Besides, you know his situation as do I. I’m getting him out of somewhere he doesn’t want to be, though I’m still unsure that he is entirely, mentally fit for the work here,”  
The older man’s gaze landed on you, smiling softly before looking back to your friends.

“He’s free to call it quits if he ever wants. I do have to commend him on how quick of a learner he is! On top of that, his hand to hand skills, are impeccable, and dare I say that he’s more advanced than Miss Weiss’, and she was a former kickboxing world champion” Thatcher was genuine in his compliment, and it made you light up. This is why you wanted to stay. You’ll train your arse off and do your job because at the end of the day, when you return home, you don’t return to an empty bed. You don’t want to be alone any more.

“As expected honestly, (Y/n) took Taekwondo from the age of 6. It scares me the stuff that he can do” Your friend Olly knew all about it, it’s where you two met, though Olly dropped off after reaching blue belt, but he would come along regularly to watch your progress.

“It’s fun like, though it’s not the best for self defence in all honesty. It’s more for show if anything.” You replied.

“(Y/n)…you got to third degree black belt by demonstrating a fucking guyver kick in the exam. You know, the one that’s literally only a ‘fancy-show off’ kick. You nailed someone with it in a sparring match too. Shut up.”

“Yes, because of something called deception, you mong. Not my fault he couldn’t read something so predictable. You should know about it too!”

“True, true”

It felt like the old days. Bickering about small, stupid things and having a laugh about it.

“Never mind that, lads. If anything, it proves a point to me, he’s more than capable of withstanding a lot that’ll come his way.”  
Again, Mike complimented you, which in turn cause you to blush.

“This food is really good by the way” introducing Marius, who had been relatively quiet throughout, happy listening in to the conversation.

None of you had forgotten about the food, if anything, you were all nearly finished. Subconsciously eating throughout the entire story.

“What happened when I was in the hospital? Also, my car, I thought you seemed familiar with it when you drove it back a few nights ago. But you said you wanted to hand it back to me personally but you never did. What happened?” You asked this question expecting Mike to know, and yet what do you know, he knew what was up in your time in the hospital.

“Keep a long story short, you already know that you were kept in a coma for 37 days. They operated to remove the bullets and managed to reconstruct your artery that had been hit. They managed a double liver transplant, the first transplant went wrong. I visited a few times to check that you were stable. That’s the best I can say really. It was a fookin’ busy period of time for me. Sorry to also tell you that I drove your car to the hospital on every visit, but part of me hoped that one day I’d turn up and you’ll be awake, nothing more I would have wanted to do than take you outside to see it. I never delivered it to you as I intended, but instead dropped it off at your home a few days before you were released as I had to be sent off on a mission for two weeks. All I know, is during that time I had been away, you met with Six and discussed a potential future with us. Originally, I was supposed to ‘interview’ you, if you want to call it that, and have Six come along to verify it all.”

“Well, all I know is that you know more than I do. Thank you for looking after my car though, I appreciate it a lot.”

There was a small silence in the restaurant until Jordan spoke up.

“What’s it like being in a coma?”

“Spastic…I don’t know! I don’t remember anything after the 14th of February until roughly the 24th of March. The first day out of the coma was a blur.”

To be honest it was a silly question, does anyone remember being in a coma? But that got you thinking too, that probably won’t leave your mind for a good few minutes. But never mind, everyone was just laughing at this point.

Slowly the laughter and chatter died down, to an almost awkward silence, save for a few people in the restaurant having their own conversations. But during the ‘almost awkward’ silence, everyone decided that normal chatter from now on would suit, to keep things lively between them. Finishing up your food as well as everyone else, it ended up being a nice half day out. Unexpectedly running into your three closest friends and letting them in on the ‘big secret’ was interesting to say the least. But it really felt like the old times. You could be talking to them about anything in the world, and all it takes is one comment from either of you four and you’ll be cracking up laughing, insulting each other for a joke and having a good time in general. You’re going to miss that, honestly.

Music played in the background, someone’s personal playlist or either a mix and match. One song after another, all relatively different. But the mood changed very soon, when Lost Without You by Freya Ridings came on.  
The song itself has a very sad vibe to it, and as much as you liked it, you tried to avoid it at all costs.

A small frown crossed your lips and you looked down to your hands, “Can someone turn this bloody song off?” Twiddling your thumbs trying not to concentrate on it, without wanting to physically cover your ears or walk out, deciding that would be a stupid thing to do. “You don’t like this song, (Y/n)?” The Kentucky born stud, Collinn, this time questioned you, unaware of your short past with this song. “I hate this song.” That’s a lie.

Your friends know what’s up, they feel the same pain too.

“I’m just glad that now this will be the last time I’ve heard it.” Jordan tried lighting the mood, but it was too late.

“Bullshit. No matter what, next time we hear it, we won’t remember this, will we?” You asked all depressed and down.

“I can only hope we do.”

“We fucking won’t…we can’t escape it” biting back almost harshly.

Silence.

You put your head down on the table with an audible thump, your friends looking rather sad too.

“I fucking miss them, man.” You tried so hard not to sob in public. The last time you heard this song was during the funeral service for your three other friends, who sadly died in a car crash, no thanks to a drunk driver who didn’t see them.

The very second the song came on, you felt your heart being ripped from you. You couldn’t help but remember the entire service for your friends, and in remembering that day brought you great sadness.

“I can’t turn it off for fuck sake.” Mumbling into the hard oak table, you felt a hand on your back, gently rubbing up and down.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)? You’ll be alright.” Mike questioned carefully, making sure to reassure you as he’s genuinely concerned, seeing you just crumble into a mess all of a sudden.

Jordan answered for you though as you just shook your head silently, suppressing any tears and cries that may escape.

“It’s…tough. The, uhhh, first and last time we heard this song was at the funeral, for our three friends that were killed in a car crash at the start of this year.”

It was another shock to every operative at the table, saddened to hear of such a terrible thing. They are rather knowing that you’ve not had the greatest upbringing, that being a big understatement, it just added up on top. They began to understand you a little more each day. Where these snide comments come from, or your small outburst of anger. Why some times you decide to just ignore everyone and hide away. It became more and more apparent as they learnt more of your not so private life.  
You were just incredibly unlucky. It sucked, hard.

“Fookin’ hell. I’m sorry to hear that, lads…I remember, he told me that he lost 3 of his friends in a car accident. Funerals are never easy, not even for us.”  
Sorrow laced the British operative’s words as he slowly rubbed your back and shoulders. His hand soon disappeared from sight, and found its way under the table and on your thigh where no one else could see.

A warmth slowly covered you as the man sat next to you leaned in close to your hunched over form, whispering, “You’ll be alright, sweet.”

His hand had no intention of leaving your thigh, squeezing gently every so often to remind you that he’s there.

Your three friends had the same, depressed expression plastered on their face, though they kept their composure much easier. They knew how hard it hit you when you got the phone call only 45 minutes later after you spoke to them.

“I-I fucking told them, right…I told them, I’ll take them home. If I did, they wouldn’t have gone down that road. They would still be here, man”

“(Y/n), mate, it’s not your fault. You know it isn’t. You don’t need to beat yourself up about it”

“Exactly what Dave said bro, there’s nothing we could have done” Jordan was still a bit up and down with his emotions. Today must be that special to him. Always the tough guy, but even his voice is cracking a little.

Through the deep breaths and light sniffles, you lifted your head and perked up a little. “I look stupid don’t I?” You thought.

“It’s stupid how a song gets me like this.” You chuckled, immediately trying to shake off all the negative emotions.

“Mate, we feel it too bro…”

You sat up and took another deep breath, forcing a tiny smirk.

“Fuck this song.”

You looked over to see Warden placing his hand on one of your friends shoulders as a comforting gesture. Forever the southern gentleman that he is, and nothing you could fault about him, even if you rip into him for the way his name is spelled.

“Anyone else want another drink before we move on?” Almost everyone replied with a nod and some sort of sound to indicate their affirmation.

A few minutes passed until one of the servers came up.

“Hey there, was everything okay with your meal?”  
She asked.

“It was lovely, thank you. Compliments to the chef of course!” Yumiko burst out, she has been relatively lively all day.

Mike looked up to the woman with his most friendly face that he can manage, “Could I get a few more drinks and the bill please?”

Jordan pulled out his wallet, getting his card ready, “I’ll pay for everyone if you don’t mind, sir.”  
It was almost laughable, hearing Jordan address Thatcher as such.

“Oh no no no, don’t worry about it. I’ve got everyone covered!” This looked to be the start of an argument over who pays, with everyone having their say.  
It finally ended with Mike winning over everyone else.

The waitress spoke up soon after the bickering ended.  
“Of course honey, what can I get you all?”  
You cringed at the comment, honey, eugh.

Almost everyone orders their drinks, you were spacing out though, staring at the wall on the other side of the building.  
The waitress was being very flirty with Thatcher, which unsettled you. It wasn’t even subtle.  
Funny how close she’d get to him, batting her eyelashes excessively and leaning over so much as to reveal herself. Mike held eye contact with her though, and you couldn’t help but notice her pick herself up when she noticed the older man’s calloused hand resting on your thigh, gently rubbing your sensitive flesh through your jeans.

(Y/n)? Anything to drink, honey?” The last word barely audible, though you heard it, and you think the waitress heard it too, her flirtatious mood seemed to drop right after that.

“I’ll be alright thank you Mike. If anything, I’ll go to the Tesco down the road and get some things for dinner tonight. Figured I’ll cook as a thank you for this today.”

“Bloody nonsense. You’re not obligated to repay me”

“I may as well though”

The older man sighed at your stubbornness. “If you really insist, I won’t stop ya!”  
Mike looked back to the waitress with a soft smile.  
“That’ll be everything then, thank you”

“You’re not getting a drink either?” You asked.

“I’ll come to the shops with ya, we won’t be long will we?” Replied the hirsute man.

“You two will meet us back here right?” Bandit queried you both, looking up from his phone.

“You think we would just leave ya here, you dafty”  
Giggles erupted from your table at the simple comment.

It was only a 2 minute wait until the drinks arrived and the bill, which Thatcher handled quickly. Taking his wallet out and giving the waitress a small bunch of 5, 10’s and 20 pound notes.  
“Ring it through and keep the rest, thank you”

Her eyes lit up and she smiled sincerely at everyone, thanking you all for the generosity.

Like that, you and Mike stood up and squeezed out from behind the table, before exclaiming to everyone that you will both be back soon.  
It felt a little weird leaving your friends in a restaurant with some people they hardly know, but you knew you wouldn’t be long.

You wandered the streets beside the older man in silence, that was until he was brushing up against you and started singing quietly.

“Standin’ on the platform, watching you go,”

This annoyed you. Of all the songs. The one you just ended up moping over a minute ago and he starts singing it?

“It’s like no other pain, I’ve ever known,”

“Shut up” you thought to yourself. No matter how much you loved his, deep, gruff and manly voice, you didn’t want to hear that song again.

“To love someone so much, to have no control,”

“Mike…” your somber tone echoed out in the crisp and quiet air, and he heard your silent plea.

“You said, ‘I wanna see the world’, and I said, ‘go’.”

“Shut up” you barked quietly, not wanting to make a scene.  
But Mike carried on.

“But I think I’m lost without you, I just feel crushed without you,”

“Mike, shut the fuck up!”

“I've been strong for so long, that I never thought how much I needed you, I think I'm lost without you.”

“Oh fuck you, Mike. Is this why you wanted to come? So you can torture me like this? Do you find it funny?”

Just goes to prove how quick your mood can change. You were very touch and go when you fall into your depressed state.

“I just like the song, sweetheart”

“Well fucking keep it to yourself”

“Are you okay?”

You just stopped dead, and looked right in the older man’s green eyes with a deathly stare.

“You fucking serious? Do you get off on me being all fucking depressed and upset?”

“I do find you rather adorable when you’re sad”

“Well I don’t fucking want to be sad! What’s gotten in to you all of a sudden?!”

Mike was now just a few inches away from you, and his arms stretched out to hold you in place.

“I know you don’t want to be. But you’re holding back, way too much. You won’t get better if you don’t let it out.”

So that’s what Thatcher is up to.

“But maybe I don’t want to embarrass myself in public by having a bloody breakdown…”

But there wasn’t much you could do against the man’s brute strength. Pulling you in to his arms and holding you to his warm, comforting body.

“Fear and grief hold you back too much. You’ve got all of this bottled up inside of ya, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of your issues. I just want to help you, sweet.”

You gave in and wrapped your arms around the man as he held you tight. It all made sense to you. He watches you like a hawk and can pick up on all of these little details, it was almost scary. But despite the fact that he said he’s only scratched the surface, he already knows a lot more about you than anyone else does. Probably more than you do.

You didn’t care if anyone watched as you two hugged it out in the middle of the street. If anything, you begged that he’d pick you up and run somewhere private so he can have his way with you.  
It’s incredible, the effect this man has on you. He knows how to push all of your buttons. He can turn you into a crumbling mess just by talking. He’ll plant a little kiss on your cheek and all of a sudden your frown will turn upside down.  
His arms would embrace you lovingly and his body would press up against your back perfectly, you’d melt into his touch and feel like nothing can touch you.

In this minute, you forgot just how angry you got at the man mere seconds ago. It just clicks in you, just what he can do to you for the greater good.

But the hug had to come to an end, so you could both get to the shop and do what you initially planned on doing. Thatcher laid his arm across your shoulders as you walked along the path, his fingers lightly curled in to grasp you gently.  
It was a comforting reminder for you.

Not once did he let go, or let his arm drop when you shopped around for bits and bobs.  
You had already planned what you would cook tonight a little while ago, so finding the ingredients wasn’t hard, or so figuring out what ingredients you needed wasn’t hard. You’d find that every time you’d enter an empty aisle, in the sense that no other person was there, you’d feel a small tickling sensation on your cheek as Mike would lean in and place little kisses on you. His soft beard caressing your smooth features.  
In turn, you’d lean into him and let him ‘take control’ of you. It was almost like you’re drunk on his love.

A quarter of an hour later, both of you made way to the check out. Favouring the self checkout over the now old fashioned, manned checkouts. Luckily it was rather quiet so there wasn’t much waiting around involved.

But then came the time to pay.

“Right, I’ve got this Mike.”

But the older man can be just as stubborn as you.

“No, no. Wallet away, I’ve got it.”

“You’ve paid for enough today!”

“Maybe it’s not enough actually”

“Mike, I’m paying. Allow it.”

He grabbed your wallet and slid it in his back pocket.

“If you want to pay for it so badly, I want you to say, out loud, ‘Daddy, let me pay for it, pretty please’.”  
The grin that painted Thatcher’s face really annoyed you, but you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous request.

“You having a fucking laugh?”

“Do you want to pay for it or not?”

You just stared at him and sighed. You did, you’d go this far to pay for something so small and simple because you genuinely felt bad having someone else pay for you.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,”  
You let out a small huff before humiliating yourself.  
“Daddy, let me pay for it, pretty please.”

“No.”

Next thing you know you’re being cornered by the man and the self service checkout. He pushed forwards until you ended up sat on the damn thing.

“Unexpected item in bagging area!”

Your pissed off expression was completely wiped from your face when the checkout machine alerted you to your own presence. Snorting extremely loudly for everyone to hear, before letting out the biggest laugh of the week.

“Move yer arse, boyo, still have a couple more things to scan.”

“You’re a fucking dick, Mike.”

“But you like my dick don’t ya, boy?”

“Shut up”

Thatcher could only chuckle in response, before he grabbed you by the arms and pulled you up carefully.

Once finished, Thatcher pulled out his own wallet, took his card out and proceeded to pay for the shopping. Only giving your wallet back once the transaction was approved.

“What was the point in making me say something so dehumanising?”

“Isn’t so dehumanising when you’re moaning it out is it, sweetheart?”

“Ughhhh, you-I-you…that doesn’t answer my question! Do you get off on it or something?”

“I’m merely trying to help you get over a few things. One, being afraid of judgement. Ya shouldn’t care what others think! Also, I’m teaching you that you don’t always get what you want in life.”

“Mike, I’ve lived 21 years of my miserable life knowing that I don’t always get what I want, and frankly, I don’t want to be one of those people who gets what they want all the time.”

“Oh I know, you weren’t a spoiled kid, and look at ya now. You’ve grown exceptionally well! But sometimes you’ll have to get along with what others want. I want to spoil ya some, alright sweetheart? You deserve that.”

“Alright…but judgement? How do I get over that? I’m paranoid 24/7!” 

“Trust me (Y/n), this will help. You’ll slowly become less and less bothered by the presence of others. Who cares what anyone else thinks, eh?”

“It’s harder than you think, Mike”

“I know it’s hard, I really do”

“But everyone judges me!”

Thatcher decided now was a good time to grab you by the rear, as the little back and forth was shortly interrupted by a woman who was walking past.

“Don’t worry, I don’t judge, no one should care who you love, even if he’s 60 years older than you!”

You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or just laugh.  
Thatcher’s face dropped at the comment.

“Cheeky sod, I’m only 57! I don’t look that old do  
I?” Mike retorted immediately.

“If anything you look younger than 57.” You replied. She didn’t stick around for the older man to reply, which is probably a good thing.

Looking around you did see that no one was paying attention to you, they didn’t care. That lifted a bit of weight off of your shoulders.

Walking out of the store was no different to walking in, as Thatcher found his resting spot for his arm as usual.  
This time though, the veteran decided to take you down the ‘scenic’ route back to the restaurant.  
Within a few steps you found yourself in a large park area. Just open, grassy ground, well kept hedges and flower beds, trees and a decent sized pond. There were a few people here, though surprisingly not as many you’d imagined there would be considering how nice of a day it is.

“Let’s take a seat for a minute, boyo” Thatcher suggested, placing the shopping bag out of the way before gracefully lowering himself down onto the silky green blades of grass.  
Following suit, you carefully plopped down though not with the same grace.

“Why’d you want to stop here for?”

You looked to the hirsute man, who was looking ahead at the scenery. The corner of his lips curled upwards in a small smile.

“Just wanted us to finish up our little private time, you know, before tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee made their surprise appearance.”

Yeah, you remember alright. That was embarrassing.  
This time, the older man grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in to him, making sure to fall back a little to let you rest upon him.  
Though you were rather rigid and tried holding yourself up to stop yourself from putting all your weight on him, but it became increasingly uncomfortable and you slowly started relaxing. It wasn’t until you fully collapsed and allowed the man to fully embrace you that he let out a very deep and long growl out of pleasure, enjoying the moment deeply.

“We won’t be too long though, alright? Just so suspicions don’t arise.”

You just laid your head on his chest and basked in the sunshine, letting the gentle breeze cool you down. The temperature was just right for napping. A couple of little clouds floated in the clear blue sky. But your eyes were fixated on something else, something big. Oh the things you’d do to this man. Always showing off his best features without intentionally flexing them. That succulent looking bulge in his trousers was extraordinary to you, and you wondered how you can hold yourself back, wanting to start kneading his straining length immediately. Naughty thoughts of unzipping him and sucking on his juicy meat through his jeans wouldn’t leave your head. That will have to stay a fantasy right now. Just not something you would do in public.

The familiar tightness of the older man’s grasp sent shivers down your spine and the butterflies in your stomach soaring.

“Liking the view eh, lad?” Thatcher rumbled out, his hand stroking your short hair gently. You spent the time together, just caressing each other carefully, and hugging it out in the sunshine on your grass bed. The last few minutes of the ‘private’ time was spent with Thatcher laid right back with his head on his hands, gazing at the few passing clouds, whilst you laid adjacent to him, with your head resting on his pillow-like stomach. No talk, just enjoying the presence of each other without the distractions of the German children.

Metal on metal lightly clacking as the older man lifted his wrist to look at his watch caught your attention.

“Righty-ho, baby boy, we should get back to them wankers before they become suspicious” the SAS man lifted your head to face him with strong fingers. Slowly shuffling himself up to a sitting position, your head was resting on his lap, on top of a rather hard and warm presence.  
You would purposely rub your head against it to tease your lover.

A short, deep groan and a gentle buck of the hips as his member twitched made you get off of him, standing up and stretching your limbs as Thatcher did the same. You couldn’t help but smirk at the way too obvious bulge, which you thought would be good enough punishment for him, seeing how he embarrassed you earlier. Though creepy it may seem, you found it hilarious.  
But then again, this is Mike Baker you’re trying to embarrass. He doesn’t give two shits about anyone else’s opinion or their thoughts, and you could honestly see him proudly strutting the streets showing off his hidden manhood with pride.  
What he hides in his trousers is beyond perfection. Not excessively hung or thick, but still much bigger than average. Uncut and unshaven, always clean and tidy though. Maybe the body hair thing is just your kind of kinky thing though, that’s what your daddy issues wanted. You wanted a stereotypical daddy. Big and strong, hair on his chest (everywhere else a bonus)! Bearded, intimidating yet gentle and loving.

Thatcher was all of that with the bonus. At 57 he had no issue picking you up and walking a marathon. He’s in an incredible physical shape yet he’s still got all the pudginess from his aged dad-bod, as people call it. To most people he’d come across as an intimidating hunk of British manliness, and has a gaze that could kill a man, but being around him so much and in your private time with him, you’ve come to know that he’s a lot more caring and loving than he seems to be. This is the man who had no interest in a partner and dedicated his entire life to work, yet since your first day, he’s been nothing but sweet and gentle to you, he would give off all of these signs and go out of his way for you, and you never even asked him to.

You were just about to start walking ahead but Mike had other ideas. He spun you around to face him and grabbed you by the rear, lifting you up and having you wrap your legs around him. His arousal was painfully pressed up against you. Your arms circled around Thatcher’s neck to keep you up, and the older man leant in to kiss you deeply. Your eyes focused on his before slowly closing as you drowned in the passionate dance of tongues. Everything else around you didn’t matter, and that felt good too. Feeling his wet and warm appendage play with yours, every single strand of his facial hair tickled your chin and nose.

“Fook me, you’re stunnin’. It’s so very tempting.” That hushed, husky voice could drive you over the edge.  
You had an idea of what he meant, but you wanted to push it a little further.

“What’s tempting, Daddy?”

You didn’t get a constructed verbal response from Thatcher, instead you got a guttural moan and a hard rod pressing against your plump behind, followed by sweet, moist lips finding their place on your collarbone.

His gentle kisses soon turned though. Unexpected teeth clamped down onto your skin before being sucked and licked in his painful hold.  
The sudden sting made you yelp out and tears welled in your eyes.

“M-Mike…aghhh, d-d-daddy stop it, please, it hurts” you couldn’t help but whimper out loud at the displeasure of his actions. Anything pain related was a big no no for you, as it tends to set off some memories that you’d rather leave in the past.

The older man’s grip loosened slightly, pressing furry lips to the red spot near your neck, trailing up to your own for one short and sweet smooch. “Sorry sweetheart”   
You unwrapped yourself from Thatcher’s waist, carefully standing on jelly legs. That proved to be difficult, but a muscular arm held you upright and eventually, helped guide you back to the restaurant on the little walk back.

Your arrival was met with small cheers and wide grins. They were happy to see you both, and the feeling of being welcomed was like nothing else.  
You wanted more of it. The feeling that courses through your body is just too good.

You had arrived in time as the last of them finished up their drinks.

Bandit looked up and smiled at you both, “Have a nice quickie guys?” 

“Tosser”

“Hey that wasn’t very nice, Mike!”

“Awwh, that’s a shame, Princess.” Thatcher enjoyed poking fun at the Germans, specifically Dominic.

“But it was a nice quickie wasn’t it?”

Persistent arse.

“Need I remind you, that I did find you and Streicher gaging on each other at 3am, in the bleedin’ lounge on one of the new settee’s!”  
There really wasn’t any holding back, Thatcher had no regard for privacy, exposing their dirty little secret to everyone in the establishment.

“Shhhhhhhhhh! Jesus Mike, not out loud!”

But that was it, everyone, and that is everyone in the restaurant, was laughing their heads off.  
Never a dull moment with the Germans around.

It took a few good minutes for everyone to calm down, finally deciding to get a move on from the place.

Like the old days, you joined your friends up front on the walk back to the cars, general chit-chat and jokes thrown about between the 4 of you, and occasionally the rest behind you. It was a really nice catch up, but the departure you will make that is soon arriving surely will be hard for you.  
It was bad enough that you left them once before without a peep. But after all of the emotional havoc you went through during the several hours together, you realise that it’s much harder to say goodbye and that leaving without a word seems like the only thing to do without you turning into a mess of tears and blubbered sentences.

Finally, making it to the multi-storey carpark, you paid for your tickets and stood around the cars.

Jordan was fiddling with his key, looking at his feet. “This is where we part ways again?”

“I think so. Until the next time that is.”

“There better be a next time bro”

Silence filled the air for a few long seconds.

“I’ll make sure there is mate” you started becoming a little teary.

“Don’t die just yet, alright (Y/n)?” Dave said.

You let out a small chuckle through the sobs and sniffles, “I don’t plan on dying yet, mate, but I can’t promise I won’t.”

Then began the waterworks, your small sobs eventually became loud cries.

“I’m sorry I left without saying anything…”

“It’s okay (Y/n), we understand, honestly”

You looked up to the three of them who approached you carefully before once again coming in for a group hug.

Mike decided he’d make an appearance in the hug too, by coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning onto your back. The extra presence didn’t go unnoticed but it was accepted with open arms, literally.

You let yourself go, expressing your sadness for all to hear.  
You really didn’t want to say goodbye to them, but in the same token, you didn’t want to go back.

“I’m going to miss you guys” you mumbled.

“We’ll miss you too, buddy. Good luck” almost everyone parted from the hug, Thatcher being the one who held on to you like the over protective man he is.

“(Y/n), I’ll drive us home, alright? Gimme yer keys” Mike held out his large hand and you gave in. You didn’t want to drive whilst having an episode honestly.

Mike released you from his powerful grasp, and continued to the drivers side of your car, unlocking it and allowing the German’s in the back seats. Warden, Echo, IQ and Hibana got in Wardens Mercedes and your friends all got into Jordan’s Audi.  
Belting up and opening the window, everyone started their cars, the sounds of the engines echoed loudly off of the low ceiling and walls of the car park.

Looking to your friends on your left, Olly shouted across, “give it a good rev for us, mate. Might not hear it for a while” you just smiled and chuckled.

Mike heard it too, and started fiddling with your rev limiter controller.  
Turning the Rev-1 dial on, and checking the gain dial was set to 2.  
You knew what he was going to do, and the fact he was very familiar with it made you wonder.

Sure enough as the engine revved up, and hit the cut point, the ‘fully automatic’ backfire rung out, deafening anyone unfortunate enough to be right behind it. Mike just looked over to them himself and bared a goofy, toothy grin.

Olly was laughing and hyping everything up like the overgrown child he can sometimes be, it was great. You felt happy before you all departed.

You slowly followed them through the multi-storey to the exit, waving them off as they turned right and Mike turned left. The distinct popping and banging on every upshift as he mashed through his DSG gearbox. It was an emotional sight which left you feeling a little empty again.

Of course the veteran noticed this, and placed his hand on your inner thigh, only ever moving to change gears.  
You didn’t care if Marius and Dominic saw, they watched you cuddle and kiss on the sofa that morning, there’s no hiding what’s going on between the two of you, even if you still feel slightly embarrassed about it. You could trust them.

Minutes pass whilst you dazed out of the passenger window of your car, realising that you’re now under the shade of a petrol station.  
Mike got out to fill up your car, which prompted you to lean out the window and have a go at him again.

“Mike…you better let me pay for this one!”

“You know the magic words”

You rolled your eyes in disbelieve.  
“You’re fucking joki-”

“If ya really wanna pay for it, I wanna hear it sweetheart”

Pause.

“Fine. Daddy, let me pay for it, pretty please.”

The hirsute man leant into the window, cupping your cheek with his cotton soft palm, and captured your lips in his for a kiss.

“No.”

Of course, what did you expect?


	12. Inseparable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t already notice by now, music is a big mood changer for me if the wrong song comes on at the wrong time.  
> I feel like a lot of people can understand that too.
> 
> This is when I get a little personal though.  
> Sad reality, I’ve lost 3 friends this year in the space of 3 months, sadly. Very young, all in different circumstances, (murdered, accidental, suicide). Non related too which is even harder. Only made it to two funerals, and at both, the song ‘Lost Without You’ was played. I do urge people to listen to the songs that make their appearances if you haven’t already heard them before!  
> I personally get a little teary at the sound of that song when it comes on, so I just try to amplify it to the character that is you. 
> 
> There’s a real physical connection that you feel to some songs, and, if it wasn’t obvious already, it makes you completely switch and break down. That’s how I felt for the first few weeks after the funerals. I could literally be laughing and joking with my friends, and then this song may come on and I’ll all of a sudden just start tearing up and sobbing. Seems ridiculous, I know.  
> I’m hoping that the use of song and emotion helps you understand that Thatcher is extensively aware of your troubles, and purposely tries to get you to let out (because bottling it all up really doesn’t help, guys and girls, I’ve tried it before, and it eats you alive). So that’s that, to clear up the ‘cheesiness’ of it all.
> 
> Yes, there will be sad time in this chapter, but without the essay long whiny bit. It’ll just be cuddles, kisses and warm fuzzy love, and maybe Thatcher will get a little wet because you cried on .

The past 15 minutes of the drive was spent looking out of the window on your left, turning to talk to the Germans, or just purely staring at Thatcher whilst he drove.  
Mesmerised by his intense, concentrating glare that hardly left the road.  
His strikingly handsome features were irresistible to you. You never wanted to let your eyes off of him.

Starbucks princess Dominic decided to break the silence.  
“Hey, (Y/n), is Thatcher’s grumpy, wrinkled mug really that nice to look at?”

“One to call it a mug, slap head”

Mike didn’t miss a beat in his reply, smirking almost innocently. At the same time, you felt the older man squeeze your thigh and rub dangerously close to your private area, which left you sweating.

Bandit just shrugged it off though,  
“Woah, Mike! Any closer to the lad and you’ll be jerking him off!”

Embarrassed was an understatement, you just wanted to jump out of the car and run.  
Mike didn’t help though, by grasping your barely hard member through the fabric of your trousers and gently fondled it.

“Jesus Christ Mike! Keep it in the bedroom please, old timer”

“I could, but it feels like (Y/n) is needing his daddy, Brunsmeier. So you’ll have to get over it whilst I play with two different kinds of knobs trying to get us home.”

It felt good. It really did feel good. But you wanted to just pass out into another coma and forget that this is happening.

“M-Mike! Stop, please…I don’t feel comfortable.”  
You whined out, struggling to get the older man’s hand off of you.

“You’re uncomfortable because you’re wearing these bloody trousers. Can tell ya, jeans aren’t very forgiving when it comes to a hard-on”

“I mean uncomfortable in the sense that thERE ARE TWO OTHER PEOPLE WATCHING YOU FEEL MY BLOODY PENIS!”  
You raised your voice gradually as the older man was dead set on embarrassing you in front of Marius and Dominic.

“Oh you’ll be alright, they’ve watched porn plenty of times”

“Mike, this isn’t quite the same as porn” Marius had his face in his palms, slightly muffling his response.

You just gave up and sighed, “You’re unbelievable…”

Thatcher stopped fondling you very soon though, and let his hand rest on top of yours, which was a relief. You could manage that in front of others.  
What you couldn’t manage was what he did next, which was taking your hand and placing it over his growing bulge, forcing you to fondle him whenever he’d squeeze your hand.

“How are you so fucking horny for a 57 year old?!” You blurted.

It was only a couple seconds that Thatcher’s gaze met yours, but it felt like eternity, and that scared you considering that he’s driving.

“Takes the right kind of guy to make me feel like this, (Y/n).” You didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or what.  
You just looked at him, confused.  
Turning to look at the Germans, no longer caring that you’re now making very awkward eye contact with them whilst you had Thatcher’s throbbing lump in your unwilling grasp.  
Not that you don’t like feeling him.

You just looked to them with raised eyebrows and a quizzical stare in your eyes.  
They both just merely shrugged at you and looked equally confused.

“What’s gotten into you Mike?” Asking the man with intent to get a straight answer out of him.

You didn’t get much more than a small chuckle and a smug grin from the hirsute man.  
But Bandit decided to give his answer.  
“It’s probably because he missed out on so much from his sexless marriage.”

“Wait, what?”

“What? Didn’t you know Mike has an ex wife?”

This was news to you.  
“No…”

“What happened then?”

Mike still didn’t answer, concentrating on the road ahead making sure you don’t all crash and burn, that would be ironic if that’s how you went out.

Bandit spoke up to answer your question “Well he didn’t get any loving from her that’s something I know.”

“Clearly not enough considering it turned him gay” Jäger added jokingly..

This began the entire speculations between the three of you, all whilst the SAS operative just smiled and laughed at it all.

It took a further 10 minutes of mindless babble until Thatcher came out with the truth in what must of been a TL;DR that he constructed in his head to keep things short.

“Right, children, that’s enough now. This is what happened, alright? She wanted kids, I didn’t. She wanted me to quit my work, I didn’t.  
She ‘loved’ me, I didn’t love her. She’s a straight woman, I’m a gay man. See where this is going?”

“So she didn’t know you were gay?” You asked, curiously.

“No. Growing up and living in those times was a lot different for closeted men and women. If you wanted to put it this way, you could say it was a ‘forced’ marriage. But, more so to cover my tracks,” The older man’s deep green eyes met yours for a split second, and gave your hand a squeeze before continuing on, “though I’m not sure how she didn’t find out sooner, considering I actively tried avoiding her advances, she just thought I was tired and ‘not in the mood’. She thought that for 25 years. Before you ask, she wasn’t the brightest of the bunch. But she pulled some strings when it came to the divorce, and got my childhood home, and I’m still not happy about it.”

“Wait, so did you divorce her or she divorce you?”

“She found out, and she divorced me.”

This had all three of you interested.

“How did she find out?”

“Going to keep it short again, my good sons. She went to visit her ‘parents’, she was actually having an affair, which didn’t bother me of course. She came home 2 days early during my 3 week leave, found me in bed, spooning bare arse and balls deep in Adriano.” Thatcher didn’t hesitate when he told you, which to you meant that he trusted you three greatly.

“Adriano, as in-” Bandit was cut off though very quickly.

“Yes, Specialist Martello. So don’t you go blabbing to him and asking him stupid questions, otherwise I’ll fookin’ staple yer lips shut and deck ya for letting it slip.”

“Explains why Maestro has such affection and praise for you! Are you really that good in the sack then Mr. Baker?”

“I’m not goin’ to toot my own horn, but you can ask (Y/n) if ya want to know.”

Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to the right to glare at the older man. You knew they’d ask.

“So, (Y/n), is he really th-”

“Shut up, am no saying a thing”

“So he’s really good huh?”

“Fuck up princess am not answering”

“Well, you’ve been sitting down alright all day so he can’t be that great surely.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Almost begging them to just stop it and forget it.

“Awwh, was he a let down then? That’s a shame, the great Mike Baker, can’t please his lovers with his micro penis.”

“Alright fuck up then, Mike is incredible, and he doesn’t have a small dick. It’s probably bigger than your skimpy forearms.”

“That might be over exaggerating a little, sweetheart” all that followed after was uncontrollable laughter, verging on the edge of tears.  
Talking so openly about something so private and embarrassing was relieving, it felt good.

Who’d of thought that Thatcher would do something so, daring, and naughty! Though now that you know the bare minimum, you wanted to hear the entire story. But that is for another day it seems. It went quiet again until Thatcher turned the volume up slightly on the head unit. 

“Bloody love this song” he muttered, before he started humming and singing along to My Sharona by The Knack. You don’t remember Mike connecting his phone to the Bluetooth radio system at all today, but you could see his phone was left in the centre console pocket face up, with Spotify open and his playlist on shuffle. 

Within a few minutes, the familiar barbed fences came into view and the car began slowing down. A familiar head of black hair came into view, clearly on duty. Which ended in you completely changing your mood, noticing that you were still ‘forced’ into holding on to his twitching appendage.

“Mike, let go of my hand, please” sternly warning the older Brit upon realisation of who it was.  
To your surprise, he let your hand free and acted normal, though didn’t care too much that his bulge was quite obvious.  
But Mike saw who was on duty too, and knew it’d be best not to make you any more embarrassed than you already were.

“Afternoon Mike, Dom, Marius, Pussy boy. Had fun?” God you wanted to punch him in the face. Mike was ready to greet him with a smile but dropped it soon after the imbecile finished speaking.

“Wasn’t too bad, until your bloody mug made an appearance”

“Any reason you’re driving (Y/n)’s piece of shit? Another mental breakdown and need daddy to look after him again?”  
What was his problem? It was getting beyond ridiculous.

“James, grow up lad. Do you have a problem?” Mike asked.

“With you? No. With him? Yes.”

“James, the issue you have is because you like picking fights for a laugh and get offended when you lose them. Grow up.”

James looked offended, and almost heartbroken.

“Are you really just going to leave me like this, Mike?”

“For fook sake James you’re being pathetic!”

“You left us all behind, it’s like we don’t know you anymore Mike!”

“Porter, for Jesus bloody Christ on a bicycle’s sake, I’m still the same bleedin’ person! You, on the other hand, you’re out of control! It’s like you’re jealous! Maybe, I’m spending a little less time with you, because I don’t particularly want to bloody deck you. You know me Porter, I don’t take kindly to anyone, and that is anyone, starting a damned fight for no reason!”

“Didn’t you punch Olivier for no reason?!”

Thatcher just pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exhausted from James’ childish act.

“Flament got arsey with me during one of his moods. I told him to calm down, which he didn’t like, shoved me, so I gave him one to the cheek which he saw coming. What do ya know now? We get along fine, he apologised, I apologised, even gave him a bloody hug for it, the bastard needed it.” 

“I didn’t start any fight with him!” James was now pointing at you, and you just visioned yourself grabbing his finger and snapping it. 

“James, need I remind you, that you punched (Y/n) in his bleedin’ spine as he turned around and began to walk away, in an attempt to de-escalate the issue! Have you tried to apologise for it? No. I’m waiting for you to bloody grow up, and stop with the fookin’ name calling, because you’re acting like a petulant child. Now get to work, and stop being an irritating git!” He really does go a little off on one when he wants to, it was almost like a lecture. It left the younger SAS operative almost dazed in shock, trying to process everything. All the whilst you just sat there, mouth wide open and the Germans just giggled.

Just like that though the gate opened, and Thatcher passed through into base territory and left James to stand in the middle of the road like the idiot he is.

“He irks me”

“I know boyo, he’s a fookin’ wanker when he wants to be.” It came out as a snarl, Thatcher’s displeasure towards James and his shitty attitude towards you, was rather apparent.

“I feel like I’ve caused all of this though…” sighing out of frustration.

“Don’t, (Y/n). I’m choosing who I want to be around at this moment in time, I always have. If he’s going to act like an immature prick, then I won’t bother with him until he bucks up his ideas.”

“If I never accepted the offer and moved my depressed arse and shitty attitude here, you wouldn’t be in the middle of this all, and you’ll be fine with everyone. I feel like they’re beginning to hate you because they hate me”

Eventually you all pulled up into a parking spot, and Warden followed suit leaving his car next to yours.  
Mike looked to you with a sullen look painting his handsome face, “Don’t be bloody silly, sweetheart. If you’d of not accepted this, then what would we be eh? Let’s keep this between us four here alright, but, here’s a little secret. I fell in love with ya when I first saw ya.” 

“What, when I was dying in a pool of my own blood? Yeah I bet I looked rather dashing then didn’t I?” 

“Forever been a handsome lad you…” 

“Don’t lie” why did you doubt him? He’s always been truthful to you. 

“I’m glad I got to kiss you a second time without the taste of blood” 

“This sounds so stupid and soppy” 

“Love at first sight isn’t just a fantasy some people dream about. Look at yerself, I could see it in ya since the first day!” 

“How did you know?” 

“I know a lot about you, (Y/n). I can tell a lot about a person just by the way they act, their personality, how they look at others. Your eyes tell the story that you can’t muster up the courage to speak. I can piece together a lot about you up ‘ere,” Thatcher tapped his temple a few times with his index finger before turning towards you. 

“I’m not thick either, lad. I know when someone has feelings for someone, and it’s even more obvious when they’re for me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve had to tell myself that 100 times over before” Again, eyes met and you forgot that Dom and Marius were sat behind you watching it all unfold. “Do you really think I’m handsome? Because compared to you, I’m really not…” 

“Don’t be puttin’ yer self down now lad! Of course I do, you are a handsome boy, such perfection in ya…” Thatcher was such a smooth talker, mostly down to his accent maybe, but that’s just another thing about him that you love. 

“I’m nothing special.” 

“You’re more than special to me (Y/n)” 

“Are you trying to make me cry?” 

“I don’t try to for the wrong reasons. If you need to let anything out, then please do. I’ll be here for ya whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, ears to listen to ya or arms to hold ya.” 

“You really mean it?” 

“Of course I fookin’ do boyo! I wouldn’t love you if I didn’t, and you know, (Y/n), I love you.” 

You spent a good minute processing the whole back and forth between you and Thatcher before responding. 

“I love you too, Mike” 

A gentle, soft calloused hand caressed your cheek before you locked chops and began practically devouring each other’s faces. It was kept short and sweet though, as you all remembered that you’re currently sat in the car and should really get out of it. 

“I can see why he calls you daddy” 

“Oh my days, Dom shut up, I bet Marius calls you daddy and pulls on your beard when you’re doing him raw…” 

“I make sure he uses condoms for your information” Marius didn’t miss a beat when chiming in on the childish bitching session. 

“It’s good to know that you’re both using protection” the older man chuckled out, turning around to face them. 

“You didn’t when we did it!” 

“True, but I don’t have anything to worry about with ya, nor should ya worry about me.” 

Bandit just looked at you both with a face you couldn’t describe, “Jesus Christ guys, alright we get it! You’re a filthy perv Mike, and you have daddy issues” pointing at you to finish. 

You fired back immediately, “It wasn’t really a secret though, was it?” 

“Probably should have been!” 

Mike just smirked and jumped in again, “It’s a secret between us four, now hush.” 

“Did you use protection when you and Martello got it on in your ex’s bed?” Now Marius wanted to keep it going with the inappropriate questions. 

“For your information, that was and still is my bed. I paid for it! And no, I didn’t use protection.” 

“Such a naughty man aren’t you Mike! Never thought you’d be this much of a dirty fucker” everyone lost it again and was laughing their arses off at the silly little moment you all had together. 

Finally deciding now was the time to start climbing out of the car, stretching your legs and arms upon your freedom.  
But you didn’t exactly get to use your legs as you intended, being swept off of your feet by surprise and held bridal style wasn’t something you had in mind, and frankly, you didn’t want to be seen by everyone like this.

Mike was in a really funny mood today, but maybe if what was said about a loveless marriage was true, then maybe this whole lovey-dovey phase is just his way of appreciating you and releasing his pent up love to you. He was ready to show everyone that you belonged to him, and that he’s not the bitter, lonely, work-driven zombie that he used to be.

He was happy, and so were you. Though it’ll take a lot more for you to come to terms with your new relationship being public to everyone. You weren’t on the best of terms with a lot of the operatives, and Twitch and James seemed to be the ones who would start the shit-stirring. Mike caught wind of some of the stuff that was said, and told you what crap was being thrown about, which the caring Brit dismissed and even argued.

You accepted your fate, relaxing in to his comforting, hairy, muscular arms. Carefully resting your head on his shoulder.  
“May as well make the most of it if I can’t do anything about it” you thought.  
Yet, you couldn’t even listen to your own thoughts as a high pitched squeal pierced the ears of every living being within a 5 mile radius.

Everyone else who was chatting away with each other turned to the Japanese woman, who was the source of the joyous shrieking.

After realising that she was staring at you and Mike, they all turned their attention to you both.

_Oh no, she has her phone out._

How many photos has she taken already?

“Mike! Give him a little kiss on the cheek for me, it’s cute! I’m going to frame these for you.”

You just stared at her in disbelief, with the stupidest face imaginable. It was a rather hilarious sight to behold. Mike holding you in his arms whilst placing little, loving kisses on your rosey cheeks, all whilst you stared straight into Hibana’s soul, swearing to devour it entirely whilst she takes photos of exactly that.

“These better not end up on Facebook” you chided.

“I can’t guarantee that they won’t!”

Oh boy, you wanted out of this, and all you wanted to do was delete every single photo on her phone just so she can’t, and Mike could feel your muscles twitching as you wanted to escape his grasp. But no, he made it worse.  
Instead, feeling his right arm readjust under you, the seasoned veteran managed to grasp your chin with his left hand and turn you to him, only to take your lips in his furry ones, gently forcing his way into your mouth with his moist tongue, cupping your cheek momentarily as he deepened the kiss. He returned his left arm, helping hold you again. God he was bloody strong though.  
Then again, you weren’t very heavy.

Yumiko just squealed louder, losing her shit over the “cutest thing in the world” as she put it.  
You couldn’t believe someone else would consider this to be cute.

Mike did get a little carried away though, occasionally biting and playing with your lower lip, very gently.  
Growling sometimes and a couple of times he even squeezed your arse cheek.

Hibana was finally happy with all the photos she took, and put her phone away. Everyone else just looked at you two with a variety of expressions. Luckily none were disgusted or unease’d by the show, but rather in awe.

“Mike…the shopping is in the boot.” You reminded the older man as he started walking off to the building with you held to him.

“So it is…Marius! Grab the keys from my pocket and give me a hand please?”

“Is everyone your slave now?” You asked jokingly.

“Well, I’ve only got two arms and those are rather occupied.”

“You could always put me down, I can walk you know!”

“I could, but I don’t want to.”

“You’re unbelievable…” there wasn’t anything you could do, so you just nuzzled into him and smiled wide.

“Just be careful you don’t grab the wrong thing Streicher” Thatcher warned the younger German, making sure to growl out playfully.

Sure enough, Jäger got the keys and opened the boot of your car, grabbing the shopping bag and passing it to Bandit.

Then they began chuckling to each other, “Dom, I think he is bigger than your forearm.” You barely heard what he said and just rolled your eyes at the silly comment.

“Princess Starbucks, can you pass me the bag please?” Making sure to bat your eyelashes at the tattooed German. He pouted at you with the most childish look you’ve seen yet, which caused you to laugh almost uncontrollably, his disgust at his nickname had you howling and almost tearing up.

He passed you the bag before looking up to Mike, “Thatcher, tonight, fuck him so hard he can’t walk for a week. Thank you.”

Was that a threat? Because to you and Thatcher that sounded like a fun challenge rather than a threat. Obviously it wasn’t taken wholeheartedly and you all just laughed at it instead, enjoying the crude humour you all shared.

*ping*

You put your arm through the handles of the bag so you could reach into your pocket and pull out your phone.

_Yumiko Imagawa tagged you and 3 others in a photo._

“Oh no…”

There it was, right on the top of your Facebook feed, 7 photos of you and Mike. All of them from just a few moments ago.

“YUMIKO YOU ARSEHOLE!”

All that was heard was a snort and copious amounts of uncontrollable giggling.

“But you two look so cute! Aaah, かわいいです !/Kawaiidesu” (Cute).

Your soul eating glare landed on her from over Thatcher’s shoulder.  
“あなたお殺します/Anata o koroshimasu” (I will kill you) shouting out in an over dramatic tone, as to not come across as a pure threat, and more of a lighthearted jab like friends would do when they are purposely embarrassed by one another.

The female SAT operative just laughed even harder before mockingly replying, “私わとても怖い！/watashi wa totemo kowai” (I’m so scared!)

*Ping: 9+ new comments on a post you have been tagged in*

_”aww, who’d of thought old man Thatch was such a softy?!”_

_“Wtf is Dominic doing!!!!”_

_“That’s cute, but really, **Dominic Brunsmeier** WHY’D YOU RUIN IT?!”_

_“Hahahahahahahahahahahaha, **Dominic Brunsmeier** you ducking legend!”_

_“Legend by name, Legend by nature, **Mark Chandar**. I think you meant fucking* lol, ruined by autocorrect”_

_“ **Yumiko Imagawa** what is it with you and obsessing over every little thing that involves two guys that are in love? Do I want to avoid your search history?”_

_“Yeah I meant fucking, lmao **Dominic Brunsmeier** ”_

_“ **Mike Baker**?!?!?!?! Since when did you end your relationship with work and finally find yourself a lover? Grats anyway old timer!”_

_“Awwh, since when did **(Y/n)** look like such a cutie?! Ain’t he precious! **Mike Baker** you better not hurt my minion! I need him for our quick fire insult battles!”_

_“Haha, gay!”_

_“Who are you **David Lee**?”_

_“I’m (Y/n)’s mate”_

_“Well, don’t be saying stuff like that!”_

_“It’s fine! He knows it’s a joke, we do it all the time. Though this is news to me ngl. Anyway, congrats!”_

_“Yeah don’t worry **Eliza Cohen** he’s one of my best mates, it’s cool fam”_

You almost couldn’t believe it, looking in the photos. 5 of them you could see Dom had realised he was in the shot, so dropped his trousers and mooned the bloody camera. He really is a massive child. You ended up replying when you realised that your friend Dave had seen it, obviously because of the tag on the post, and you didn’t want anyone taking your friend’s jokey comments the wrong way.  
Oh what it would feel like not to be embarrassed every minute of your life.

It doesn’t end on social media though, passing through the doors into the main building, still not on your own feet.  
Eyes slowly fell onto the burly Brit who was carrying you around like you weighed nothing.  
Then a few of the operators flocked over to you.

The one thing that was said that stood out to you was a comment to Mike.  
“Baker, you’ve turned soft! You aren’t such a hard-ass after all, huh? Never would of thought you’d be the least professional about a relationship though! Happy for you, anyway!” The comment came from none other than Jack Estrada, another American from the FBI.  
You could only guess by his meaning of professional, is that they expected he’d keep any and all affection to his lover, in private, rather than entering the building carrying him bridal style with the biggest grin on his face, placing little kisses on your neck and cheek every so often for everyone to see.

Maybe that’s what years of loneliness does to such a man. His excitement has gotten the best of him, and showing you off to everyone is his way to express himself. He wants everyone to know that you belong to him, and only him.

You should know what loneliness feels like. You’ve felt it for a good portion of your young life, and what it’s done to you. You’ve become inseparable from the older man, clinging on to him like your life depends on him. Craving his touch, his attention, the loving gaze that rests upon yours. But your loneliness turned you into a hermit. You feel embarrassed and you feel uncomfortable when receiving affection in public, especially in front of people you know.

“Mike, can I walk on my own two feet please?” Asking with the most innocent voice you could.  
You should of seen the answer from a mile away.  
Thatcher slowly started lowering you down, only very slowly though before stopping and staring you down.

“No.”

Funnily enough, you were in just the right position for him to hold you by the rump, and lift you up again, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Pulse smiled at the two of you and chided in, “So I can guess who’s in control here then huh?”  
It was as if on cue, the older man pressed forward to kiss you deeply, leaving you helpless under his spell.

“Is it that obvious?” Questioned the veteran, lips disconnecting from yours as he ended the sloppy kiss, a small trail of saliva formed a bridge between you both momentarily.

“Quite. Just get him back to your room and sort yourselves out before more people come and interrupt.” Pulse waved you both off before turning around and walking out of sight.  
Taking that as your leave, Thatcher pulled you in tight, said his momentary goodbyes to the rest of the operatives whilst you just looked at them with the most blank, yet embarrassed look on your face. You were in a very inappropriate position, and you could feel Mike was affected by it.

The older man walked off, and you just looked on and waved at the operatives whilst baring the most lost looking smile known to man.  
It was picture perfect to some, a hilarity to many.

Once through the door to your private room, you didn’t have a chance to stand. The bearded SAS operator placed you on the sofa before taking the bag from you, and arranging the contents into the fridge and cupboards. He was quick at it, and seemed almost as needy as you. Collapsing onto the sofa with you shortly after, pulling you in and holding you close.

It’s something you’ll never tire of. You’d feel that rush of excitement and the warm, fuzzy loving feeling spread from head to toe whenever he’d wrap his arms around you. He was truly your safe haven.

It was only midday, verging on 3pm, and you’re full of energy, but in the current position you were in, you could feel like you’d fall asleep in an instant, listening to that all so familiar heartbeat.

You could feel the older man slightly shuffle about like he’s reaching to grab something.

“I hope you don’t mind me putting some music on sweetheart.”

“Mhmm, just not…you know.”

Suppression.

“Sorry, babe.”

“Mike…”

Of course, he put that song on.  
It was bad enough hearing it in public, where you would try your best to keep a brave face on and act strong.  
It hurt when Mike began singing it on the walk to the shops earlier.  
Now he’s doing it here, putting that one song on, whilst quietly singing it in your ear, in the privacy of your living room all whilst he holds you.  
To many this would seem like the perfect scene for something, for you, it just upset you.

“Why would you play this on purpose?”

“Because, (Y/n), I love you, and I want the best for you.”

“I find that hard to believe when you decide to torture me with this shit.” Biting back, you were ready to argue with him again.

“Did you forget what I told you earlier, boyo?”

“DID YOU FORGET WHAT I SAID TOO?!” The setting was just perfect for the older man. He knew what he was doing, and watched as the tears built up in your eyes and your lower lip began to tremble.

“I didn’t forget, sweet. Remember what I said? I’m going to help you through this, and first, we need to get a lot of this bottled up emotion out of ya.”

“Maybe I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER THIS FOR A REASON?! I don’t want to cry about it Mike.”

“You need to cry about it sweetheart”

“No I don’t! I look pathetic and weak. I shouldn’t be crying over that shit. I’m over it. I can’t be weak if I’m working here.”

“Oh for gods bloody sake, YOU AREN’T WEAK! Letting yourself express your feelings and emotions doesn’t make you weak, babe. Bottling them up and letting the pressure build inside you causes for a ticking time bomb that’ll go off unannounced, and possibly at the wrong time! I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore my boy. Let the pain out, and let it out on to me”  
Thatcher was almost shouting now, trying to drill it into your head.

“…Your issue here is because you never properly grieved for your friends, (Y/n)!”

You just stopped, and stared right into his eyes, shocked and confused.  
Almost as quiet as a mouse now, “h-h-how did you know?”

“Because, darling, you’ve always tried to be the brave one of the bunch. I imagine that, during the funeral, you stood up straight with a brave face on, because you wanted to be there for your friends who were grieving. You wanted to be the one everyone could lean on, and look what’s happened mate! You’re a mess. You’re a sweet, emotional, broken and loveable mess! You need to let it out, sweetheart. You grew up too fast, and tried to BE what you WANTED.”

He was right about it all, everything.  
You didn’t cry at their funeral. Not even a peep. Not one tear. Your friends however, they broke down into waterworks. You didn’t like seeing people sad, no matter how sad you were yourself. You straightened yourself up, put on a sorrowful smile, and made sure to be there for each and everyone of your friends that day. You didn’t break your composure, and you made sure not to let that façade of yours slip that day.  
When that song came on, that beautiful voice sang out, the ever so elegant piano played, god it felt like you were being stabbed over and over, but you didn’t crack. You promised yourself not to be weak in front of anyone again ever since that fateful day, when your ‘parents’ tried to kill you along with them. You promised you’ll be strong, and that’s how you’ll get through life.

But you finally found someone, or so he found you. You don’t have to be strong anymore. There’s someone who loves you, and will protect you with his life as you would for them. The mask that you wore didn’t fit anymore, the frown that you’ve hidden away for so long, your true face, it finally came out.

You let it out in front of this man once before, and you’re doing it again. This time even harder.  
You couldn’t hold back any tears, sobs and cries. Oh no, the whole lot. If someone was to hear, they’d probably think that you’d just witnessed your friends being murdered in front of you. Weeping out loud as you choked out jumbles of words and incoherent sentences.

“I…mis-miss them-m s-s-so much”

It was probably the only thing that came out that made sense, yet you still struggled to spew out the words.  
Thatcher understood though, as he comforted you in his hushed tone, over and over.  
“I know you do, I know. It’s alright…it’s alright. I’m here, daddy’s got ya”  
He really did like the whole daddy idea, and hearing him address himself as such helped you somehow. You loved it. He was your daddy, that’s all you ever wanted.

You didn’t even notice during the initial breakdown that Thatcher had managed to reposition himself on the sofa, stretching out across the furniture, and pulled you into his nook. One arm wrapped tightly around you to keep you from falling off, and the other to rub your back and sides whilst he reassured you. His soft, gentle facial hair would lovingly tickle your sensitive skin whenever he placed his kisses on you and his commanding green orbs would read your every move, features and expressions like an easy-reading book, meticulously studying you like a hawk.

“You’ll be okay”

All you wanted to do was bury your face into the man’s chest and scream. So you did, your tears fell and soaked into the soft fabric of Thatcher’s shirt. You wept loudly for what felt like hours, murmuring words that didn’t form complete sentences, struggling to even spit more than one syllable out at a time, like a broken record repeating the same thing over and over, stuttering on each letter.

You gradually quietened down as you mourned for your departed friends, every single breath you’d take, the older man’s intoxicating aroma of expensive, subtle cologne and his manly, musky scent filled your nostrils. It was so very calming to you.

The sobbing didn’t stop though, and you started apologising over and over for your friends, as if they could hear you. Begging for their forgiveness because you felt like you failed them, and couldn’t protect them.

“Hey hey hey, (Y/n). Chin up sweetheart, look at me, boy,”  
Slowly but surely did you lift your heavy head, only to see the mess you had left on Thatcher’s shirt. “They’re proud of you, my love. They’re looking out for ya as I am too.”

“I-I’m sor-ry I got your-r shirt w-wet, Mi-Mike…” you were worried that you ruined it, scared that he’d be angry at you, so you tried to look away, but his hand held your head from turning away. Careful fingers wiped the tears from under your eyes, tracing a delicate digit to your cheek, before gently pinching the flesh between his thumb and index finger, carefully and playfully toying with the sensitive skin.  
“Yer a cute little munchkin ‘ent ya? Don’t apologise to daddy for such silly things, it’s alright, it’s alright.”  
He’s got yet another silly nickname for you now.

“I feel like a child. I’m so pathetic…”

“Oh that’s bloody nonsense dear, you’re not pathetic at all. You’re strong and determined, a real sweetheart. I wouldn’t want anyone else in my bed, under my covers and in my arms, alright?”

You could only nod whilst you carried on sobbing uncontrollably.

“Good boy” Mike praised you for it before your vision was completely blocked out by his bearded chin, his lips pressed against your forehead only momentarily.

His hand would wander up and down your back, coming to stroke the back of your head every so often, all whilst he’s cooing out to you softly in his deep, gruff tone.  
Something tickled you right as you found the spot, snuggling into the man. Your sobs and whimpers stopped and your breathing became light and steady. A warmth tingled through you just before you passed out in the arms of the older man.

Mike felt your body relax and go limp whilst he cuddled you, “Found the comfy spot eh? Such an adorable boy aren’t ya.”

You couldn’t hear his sweet talk, but you could feel his presence all the time, and that was enough for you to wear a small smile on your lips as you slipped into the world of sleep.

“Maybe I have gone a little soft eh…” Whispered the older Brit, lightly chuckling to himself as he caressed you sweetly.  
“Love is a fookin’ weird little thing.”  
Thatcher took this opportunity to take a small nap himself, as he took a deep breath, quickly stretching his muscles before relaxing his entire body too. Turning on his side facing in to the back of the settee and letting you drop between him and the soft cushioned furniture.  
His left arm under your head, coming up to hold you in by the chest, his right arm draped over your right side, he pressed himself up against your back, holding his little spoon in a warm embrace.  
“I won’t let anyone take ya from me boyo.”

The lullaby of sad songs played in the background whilst you both kipped on the sofa, subconsciously enjoying the company of one another.

It felt good, like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. Grieving for those you love and lost cleared your mind, and helped you smile again. A real smile.


	13. Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more gay, soppy lovey dovey father/son bonding time featuring wanky mcwankface making an unexpected entrance at the very start.
> 
> And some hard banging.
> 
> I can’t write basically…

“Mike! Pub.”

Slightly disgruntled and somewhat confused, the older Brit awakens from his kip a little earlier than he planned. Then it hit him.

“James, how the fook did you get in here?!”  
That south-western tang dripped from every word that escaped his lips. Despite the groggy undertone to his voice, he seemed pretty alert.

“You’re going senile, Mike. You left the keys in the door. Dom told me you did last night too.”

“You’re an incredibly terrible liar James, considering I can feel my keys in my pocket.”  
Thatcher took a second to dig into his jean pocket, and pulled out the keys in question. Sure enough they were the ‘house keys’ as he’d always call them.

James then proceeded to hold a set of keys in his hand, with a red, distinct lanyard dangling from them.  
“Your little faggots keys you old coot.”

Thatcher looked over at the man in his door with malice,  
“James”. Snarling his name out at his inappropriate and insulting comment.

“What?”

“You blithering idiot, Porter. Number one, don’t refer to me as an old coot when you’re two pence short of a shilling. Number two, (Y/n), doesn’t have a key to the dorm yet. Three, call him a faggot one more time and I’ll be making sure you’ll spend the rest of your life shitting into nappies and eating through a tube. Alright? Call me a faggot if you’ve got a problem.”

“I don’t have an issue with people being gay, I just think it’s a funny name for him y’know. He takes it right? That’s what faggots do, it’s what I called Mark once, he doesn’t mind it. Don’t tell me, Mike…you’ve taken one up the shitter too?”

“Fookin’ hell James. You need to give your head a wobble, I’d bloody wobble it for ya but I’d probably snap your neck accidentally on purpose.  
And no, I haven’t, for your bloody information.”

“Talking about that train wreck, where is he? Did you have an argument and he kicked you on to the sofa?”

How could he not see you? Mike wasn’t exactly laid out on top of you…entirely. Though it seems the way you both fell asleep, he’s definitely got a lot of you covered, like he’s shielding you. Mike just rolled himself back over a bit, revealing your peaceful limp body.

“Oh…is he that needy?”

“This was my idea, actually.”

“Oh so you’re the needy one.  
Wait, has he been crying? Did I hurt his precious little feelings that much?” James seemed almost proud of his ‘achievement’ as he throws a tiny little fist pump into the air.

“My fookin’ god, James. Do you have even the slightest shred of decency in ya?! I told ya before, watch what you say, you don’t have half an idea of what he’s been through for his entire life.” Thatcher bit back, trying not to shout too loud in case he woke you.

“Should I care?”

“For your own bloody safety I would, cause you’d have to deal with me, alright?”

“See what I mean? It’s like we don’t know you anymore, he has you pussy whipped”

“Wouldn’t say pussy whipped, Porter. This sure feels like a dick to me” big, rough hands cupped your small bulge through the trousers as Thatcher tried proving a point.

“No wonder your wife left you.”

“You think that gets to me? I was more than happy that she left me, I can’t be living a lie with a woman I don’t love. I’m actually very happy she found me bollocks deep in a guy.” Thatcher purposely left out Adriano’s name for his sake and safe measures.

“So you’ve always been gay?”

“Welcome to team Rainbow, Porter.”

“I’m not gay!”

“So why’d you say Mark enjoys being called a faggot, eh? Considering your logic.”

“It was a one time thing, doesn’t count”

“You think I’d judge?”

There was a slight silence before the tone changed to a some what somber mood.

“You don’t know us anymore, Mike. You’ve changed.”

“I’ve said it before, I’m still the same man you know. You need to buck up your bloody ideas and sort yourself out. 7:45, pub. Okay?”

The face that painted James was one of confusion, he looked like he wanted to carry on, but decided against waging a war with Mike.

“Okay, pub.”  
He turned around, placing the keys that he picked up back on the hook where he got them from, trying to play off his lie, and left. Closing the door behind him.

Mike looked to his watch for a few seconds before laying himself back down and pulling you in to him, placing a small kiss on your neck before resting his chin over your shoulder, his soft, scruffy beard tickling the sensitive spot that Mike left.

“Thank you Mike” murmuring from the depths of the cushions, showing your appreciation to the older man who was defending you whilst you ‘slept’.

“You heard it all, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm”  
You were a little sad still, not feeling like answering much more.

Thatcher’s hot breath crept down your neck as he held you close.  
“I’m sorry baby”

“I’m sorry I’m ruining everything Mike. This is my fault. He’s right, I made you change and I’m getting in the way. You’d be better off without me.”

“No. Don’t you dare say that again, (Y/n). You’re not going anywhere lad, you aren’t the problem. I’ve not changed, and if you go, then who will I have? I couldn’t let you go baby boy.”

The burly giant’s reassuring hug tightened and his kisses became more frequent, as he tried calming you.

“But…you said I’m free to go whenever I want, if this isn’t for me. Y’know?”

Mike paused and sighed, realising what you meant.

“You don’t want to work for us anymore, do you.”  
Mike sounded a tad deflated, trying not to let it get to him too much. That hurt though.

“My friends told me not to die…I don’t want to die anymore. I don’t want to risk my life, I-I-I’ve gotten over that, and-and-and-and what if I die on my first operation? I’ll be letting them down, and I’ll let you down. I’ll let everyone down, even if they don’t like me, I don’t want to let them down too…”

“Munchkin…you won’t die, not on my watch. I’ll be with you everywhere you go, and I’ll be making sure you don’t leave me alright? I’d take that bullet for ya so you can see your friends again.”

“BUT THEN YOU’LL DIE?! I couldn’t go on any longer without you, Mike! I’ll have no one who loves me again, and I’ll be all alone, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Your friends love you, (Y/n). They’ll be there for you.”

“They don’t love me like you love me. They don’t love me like a parent should, and definitely not like a lover should. It won’t be the same…and you’re not even trying to say that you won’t die, you can’t, you can’t die.”

Thatcher thinks he knows what you’re getting at.

“You want me to come with you if you leave?”  
The older man whispered out cautiously.

“I…” Pause. “I wish you could, but I couldn’t make you leave this place. I don’t want to be like your ex wife. I want you to be happy, daddy.”

“I want you to be happy too, son. I won’t stop you from going if you decide you want to quit. But, if you go, we won’t see each other again, you know? You’ll be alright with that will you? I won’t. I’ll miss you like crazy.”

Conflicting emotions came back to punch you in the face. You don’t know what to do. You really don’t want to say goodbye to Mike, he’s your everything. But you don’t want to die.  
The tears formed again and a mix of mindless babble and choked cries escaped your lips.

“Oh baby boy, it’s alright, it’s alright. Hush now, don’t cry now sweetheart, you’re making me all teary and soppy. I’m still here, okay? You feel me, right? Pressed right up against you baby, feel my chest on your back, my beard on your shoulder, my throbbing erection against your plump, tight arse—” he took it down the dirty route of course, a horny Thatcher doesn’t hold back.  
You can feel him, that warm, broad chest, his pudgy belly fit perfectly into the curve of your back, that thick, pulsating bulge aching to break free and find refuge in your hungry hole.

Then you felt cold, the tightness of warm arms disappeared as Mike got up from the sofa.

“Daddy don’t go, it’s cold without you.” Sometimes you hated how childish and needy you’d sound, to the point where you’d internally cringe, though you still secretly adored the idea of Thatcher being your daddy, and you know Thatcher enjoys going along with it. He knows all of your deepest desires, and a loving, caring dad was the biggest one of the lot. You’d wake up screaming from your nightmares wanting someone to tell you it’ll be okay, but no one ever showed. A dream you once had when you were 9, it was a happy dream, you had a loving dad. Your mum was the same old though, but your dad, he loved you, and protected you. It’s all rather foggy, but you remember waking up with a smile on your face that morning, thinking that the dream was true, and that someone cared. But you were sorely disappointed minutes later when you called out loudly, “Daddy!” waiting for him to arrive, but he never did. You remembered, they’re dead, they never loved you. You cried for hours that day, sobbing out for daddy, you wanted to sleep, go back to that dream and never wake up. But every night from then it was just a nightmare after another.

“Just give me a second sweetheart, I need a piss”  
You turned over on the sofa to see the handsome brute disappear behind the bathroom door, and you felt like you’d just been left alone again, never to see him again.

You felt cold and lonely without his touch. You just wanted to snuggle into him whilst you can. You still haven’t made your mind up, but something inside just nagged you, saying you’ll be gone from here soon. You looked lost and distant.

Mike didn’t take too long though, as he was now stood in the middle of the living room, staring at you with his arms wide open beckoning you to come to him.  
“C’mere darling” his voice as enticing as his ever warming presence.

You bolted up and straight into his arms, sobbing at your conflicting choice.

“I don’t know what to do” crying into his shirt, soaking it with your tears.

“I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to, but, remember this, I love you (Y/n). Daddy bloody fookin’ loves you son.”  
You could tell by his voice that he was feeling rather emotional, though he holds it together extremely well.  
He doesn’t want you to go, though he will 100% support your decision if you take the road back ‘home’.

There’s no doubt that Mike will be heartbroken if you leave, and you would be too.  
You really don’t want to leave your home, with Mike. But staying means that there’s less chance you’ll ever make it home to your friends.

“I don’t want to leave you daddy. But I don’t want to die yet, I’m scared.”

“I know baby, I know. I’ve got you, you’ll be alright, trust me sweet. You’ll be safe with me”

The older man pulled you with him as he slowly moved himself towards the bedroom door, and you made sure you were mimicking his every step.

Once inside and the door behind you closed, you found yourself pinned against the wall, Thatcher unrelentingly snogging you breathless as he rubbed his body up against you, the friction got your juices flowing as it did his.

It only took a blink of an eye before you were both completely naked, again being pressed up against the wall as Thatcher took complete control of the situation.  
He lifted your leg up, eager to place himself in that sweet spot of yours.

“I’m going to ravage you, darling.”  
That seductive growl had you weak at the knees. You could feel him already poking at your entrance. No warnings, no preparation.  
“D-Daddy. It’ll hurt if you go in dry…”

“Oh I’m far from dry baby. You’ll be alright.”

Your look of concern and worry made Mike hesitate for a split second, but he proceeded on.  
His hirsute body covered yours entirely, there was almost no space between you two as his lips found yours for a deep kiss once again.  
That oh so familiar thick and slick cock head poking at your entrance. Your knee gave way and you would of collapsed if you weren’t pinned against the wall. Thatcher easily held you up, your back against the light smoke wallpaper.  
At one fell swoop, you were sunk down on to specialist Baker’s tail-splitting meat rod.  
Almost too easily.  
It took you by surprise and you gasped out loud at the sudden intrusion, a sharp pain piercing throughout your lower region.  
“Who needs lube when I’ve got incredibly copious amounts of pre-cum eh?”  
Chuckling that sentence out got you squirming.

Mike didn’t move much though, he held you there, barely rolling his hips as he waited for you to adjust to his size. Balls deep, buried to the hilt.

“Feelin’ nice and warm now that daddy has got ya, baby?” You felt his lips contort and his soft beard tickle your cheeks as he spoke, still millimetres apart.

You could barely mumble out some sort of incoherent nonsense as Thatcher expertly rolled his hips, guiding his throbbing shaft inside you to brush against your prostate.

“C’mon sweetie, spit it out, speak to me gorgeous.”

You could feel the man withdrawing his length from you very slowly, as his forehead gently pressed against yours. His eyebrows raised in anticipation and the corners of his lips turned upwards into a serene smile.

“You-you’re nice and w-w-warm Daddy b-bear.”

The stutters hit you hard as you tried talking through the dull pain.

“Oh, daddy bear eh? I like that one.”

Thatcher thrust into you once he finished, and proceeded to plow you again and again.

You thought it was about time you gave Mike a few new cutesy names. He keeps on throwing all of these nicknames at you, and you really enjoy them. It eased you up when Mike exclaimed his approval.

The cold air in the room trickled down your back as Thatcher pulled you away from the wall. The burning sensation in your rear had you burying your face into the hirsute man’s collarbone, both legs wrapped around his torso and your small hands held on for dear life.  
God he was strong, almost effortlessly did he walk over to the bed, with his thick cock still sunken inside you. Your tight ring of muscle clenching on to the wet, hot member, stopping it from slipping out.

Then came the tricky part, which went very well surprisingly. Mike gently lowered himself down with you on to the bed, sitting on the edge.  
He took a moment to stare into your teary, brown orbs with his intense and calming green eyes, taking his time again, letting you readjust in his lap.

“Magnificent” he uttered in his husky tone, before pressing soft lips together.  
Then his hips began moving, gently bucking up into you, like he was trying to push in deeper than he can go. But he finds ways to move inside you which leave you whimpering and sobbing. His rough yet delicate hands gripped your fleshy cheeks hard, lifting you up just a bit to allow for more movement, the friction caused from not being prepared and going off of just his pre cum caused you to grit your teeth, only for you to start seething in pain after he full forcedly brought his hips up as he pulled you down on to his rock solid shaft.  
It was too much for you, as you cried out for him to stop.

“P-papa bear it hurts!” You tried to hold yourself back from screaming at the top of your lungs.

Thatcher slowed down again, cooing out to you in an attempt to soothe you,  
“You’ll be okay, be a big boy for daddy.”

Every thrust got harder and harder as Mike picked up the pace, getting lost in the depth of your hot, tight walls. His moans and groans loud enough to be heard from the next town over. Guttural growls that bordered animalistic would escape his furry lips whenever his big, manly balls would smack against your plump arse.

You couldn’t do anything against his will. You were his, he owned you, and he made sure you knew. It hurt, it really hurt, and a small part of you wanted to cry and tell him to stop, but you enjoyed it, this extremely dominant side of him. He was the master, you’re just a mere toy for him to use as he wishes.  
He’s your daddy, and you’re his boy. You’d do whatever your daddy tells you to please him.

But it hurt. It really hurt, and you were muffling your own cries of pain into Mike’s shoulder whilst he fucked you hard and deep. You’d feel an immense tingle whenever he’d brush against that small bundle of nerves inside you, but you still sobbed.  
You eventually settled your face, finding that safe space in his broad, musky, haired chest. Warm, soft, relaxing. Quiet. He can’t see you crying when you have your face buried into him, he can’t hear you choking and sobbing when all the sound is lost on his skin.  
But you forget who’s currently 7 and a half inches deep inside you, the man who knows you better than anyone else in the world. The man who can tell you what you did exactly at 16:37pm on the 20th of March 2011 just by the way your eye moved for a split second. That may be exaggerating too, but Thatcher knows when something is off, yet you hid it for long enough.

Those heavy, powerful thrusts slowed down, and he became gentle in his motions.  
You felt careful fingers find your chin, sweetly caressing it before lifting it up for you to face him.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away sweetheart” was all he said. Seeing the tears in your eyes, feeling you clench around his girth uncomfortably. He knew.  
He gave you a small peck on the lips before withdrawing completely from you and picking you up.  
Only to place you down on the bed and climb on top of you that is. You felt empty without him inside you, but it didn’t hurt anymore. It was a weird feeling. You wanted to be full, but you don’t want the pain.  
You could just get him to lube up and go again, but he probably won’t listen. He’s too sexed up.

Then here we go again, he’s pressing at your hole once more, this time in a slightly more comfortable position. Just like the first time.

“Grab my bollocks sweetheart and squeeze them gently whilst I slide in. Get my juices squirtin’ boyo.”

God, he’s so straight forward yet dirty.  
You couldn’t disobey that seductive voice.  
Without hesitation you stretched your arm out to reach around back, you could feel the wiry hairs, the warm meaty sack, how plump and juicy they were.  
You got to work fondling them gently, feeling them react to your feather touch, they were incredible.  
Then you felt it, a wet, very very wet and sticky substance leaking on to your puckered hole.

Mike was oozing with slick, salty man juice, and he was ready to give you another pounding.  
But you were still a little wary of his size, and the lack of preparation. You’ve taken him before, and it was the most incredible sensation you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing, but this felt different, and Thatcher seemed, off.

“D-Daddy I don’t think it’ll fit. It hurts too much…”

“Nonsense, it fits perfectly, like you were made for me.”

The unsheathed bulbous head slowly pushed through your defiant sphincter, as he hushed you to relax.

The most satisfying, squelching, popping sound was made as his entire glans was engulfed,  
“It just takes—”

More and more of him was inside you, slowly pushing inch by inch.

“A little bit—”

How much pre cum does he produce again? All you could hear was an all too cliché sound of sloppy, hot sex. That ‘wet’ sound constantly ringing in your ears.

“Of—”

Buttocks meet bollocks once again, as the older man found lips on his before pulling away to finish.

“Perseverance.”

This time it was painless, and it got you rock solid, you could probably cut diamonds with your cock.  
Your mouth gaped open and your eyes locked on to Mike’s. Tiny moans and squeals escaped your trap.

“You’re gawking, precious”

It felt like your body was taken over, and your mind spoke for you.

“Fuck me hard daddy. Fuck me raw, I’ve been a naughty boy!” Crying out for the veteran to move and make love to you.

You never would have said that, but there’s no going back now.  
The smirk that Thatcher brandished was close to wicked, and he didn’t hold back. He made sure to use every inch of himself, thrusting hard enough to break the bed.

Wet smacking and deep, throaty moans filled the air as the older man violated you, already becoming ragged and messy.  
Every word that you spoke was no different to the last, it was always, “Daddy” you called out for.

“You haven’t been a naughty boy, (Y/n). But let’s pretend that this is your ‘deserved’ punishment.” He was already breathless, and close to the edge. He must of been holding off for quite a while.  
If you couldn’t have already guessed by his hard, pulsating erection inside of you and his chanting, “I’m goin’ to fookin’ cum babe” then you would of been the world’s most oblivious person.

He never missed that sweet spot in you, which is a skill of his. He had you begging for release minutes ago, and you were so very close now. Too close.

You felt it, the heat of pleasure bubbling inside you, and then it all came crashing down. An intense and loud orgasm washed over you causing you to tense up as you shoot your steaming hot load. Visibly shaking from the feeling, god you couldn’t control yourself.  
Spurts of white love splashed against both yours and Thatcher’s stomach.

That was enough for Mike to reach his limit, as you milked him of his hot seed.  
You could feel him spilling inside you as he panted in exhaustion. He really gave it his all.

Thatcher seemed to grunt every time he shot, you could count every spurt of cum just by the feel of it splashing against your tender, sensitive walls.

Gently rocking back and forth now, letting your constricting ring squeeze the last drops out whilst he snogged you desperately. His arms wrapped around you as the hirsute Brit collapsed on top.  
You felt the warm, viscous liquid slowly trickle down your cheek and thigh, followed by a slightly uncomfortable withdrawal of Mike’s now flaccid penis.  
The lack of Thatcher inside you left an opening for most of his cum to start seeping out, but you didn’t care how ‘filthy’ it seems, and how sweaty you both were.  
You were spent, and so was he, and all you wanted to do was lay on the bed with Thatcher, listening to his soothing heartbeat and relaxed breaths.

He was already composed, taking control again, but this time by rolling off of you and dragging you into him, he held you close to him, your head now in your special resting spot, his right hand finding your left, fingers intertwined. His left arm keeping you still as you were slightly shaking from the intensity of the sex you just had.  
“Why is he so perfect?” You thought to yourself for the 100 millionth time, never tiring of his kisses and cuddles.

“You’re a fookin’ fantastic lay, y’know boyo?” Why is his voice so damn sexy?  
Why is everything about Thatcher so damn sexy?  
Wishing you had the confidence to show off your man to the world like he shows you off to all of your colleagues. He deserves to be shown off like such. He’s smart, witty, confident, strong, supportive, sweet, caring, intimidating, terrifying, handsome, more than handsome, he’s gorgeous, beautiful even. He’s perfection. Everything about him, from head to toe. God you’d even brag about every little detail on his perfectly sculpted manhood. From the slit on his juicy head to the veiny, thick shaft right down to his bushy base. The succulent, suckable foreskin, his big, ripe balls. Jesus, even his cum. God it tastes good, and there’s plenty of it.  
He’s something incredible for his age in comparison to many others.

One thing you’ve noticed is how laid back Mike has become though. He was always busy and punctual.  
But now, he takes his time and likes to spend it with you. He’d happily lay in bed all night and day to be with you, and you really wouldn’t mind that at all. But you don’t want to become useless and lazy here, you need to get training at some point too. Luckily today is a lazy day. Nothing has popped up, which requires the use of operatives. Training, 95% of the time, is on your own accord. You choose when is best for you, you do as you please here. It works extremely well too! No one is pressured around here to be on time for some bloody laps around the field. You don’t all have to gather up at 5:45 am and take orders from someone. You don’t need to be pushed to the limit every time. You find your own limits and either work to them, or challenge yourself. Everyone here is generally much happier and it allows for people to bond if they please. Everyone has their own routine and can adjust, yet, when you get the call to Six’s office, you’re there. No questions asked and not a second later. It all works perfectly.

It all clicked with you, that Team Rainbow is your home.

“Am I really that good, daddy?” Asking almost sheepishly, rubbing your face into his manly fur and inhaling the musky scent. It sent so many shivers down your spine.

“The best, babe. I mean it.”  
That wink, the smirk, those eyes.  
You squeezed your free arm up and brought your delicate fingers up to Thatcher’s beard, gently stroking it. The motion of running your fingers through his beard is soothing. The surprisingly soft hairs always fascinated you. His kisses never left your face feeling scratched up and uncomfortable.

“Ya like papa bear’s beard eh?”

The old git would always come out with these silly little ‘questions’ whenever you became lost in his presence. Delicately brushing his features with purely innocent intentions.

You couldn’t even reply with a proper answer, a strained whine dribbled out,  
“Soft.”  
You sounded extremely desperate.

“Bloody adorable aren’t ya, my boy?”

You didn’t know how to answer, mostly because it was rhetorical. All you could do was look at him all wide eyed, lusting over the elder operative.

It didn’t last long though, as the overwhelming comfort of the warm embrace had you drowsy, your eyes closing as you nuzzled into the ticklish hairs that inhabited Mike’s chest and stomach. He was the perfect pillow.

———

“C’mon honey, move that sweet arse of yours”

“But I’m comfy”

“I know, I know, I’d be happy to lay here all day…but you have some cooking to do, and I have a pub to visit later. We can always cuddle when I’m back.”

You tried to bite back a loud groan but it was futile as the older man caressed your cheek just as you do to him.  
Though the groan was more out of annoyance, but you complied and sat up.  
You didn’t move more than that though.

“C’mon (Y/n), shift it”

What followed next was probably the most childlike retort you’ve ever made.

“I don’t want to.”

“You want to go hungry?”

“No.”

The bearded man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed,  
“Well then, get your arse up then for goodness sake”

“Make me.”

“Do you want a spanked bottom?”

“I’m not a child, Mike.”

“Stop acting like one then you silly fookin’ sausage!”

“Maybe I want to be difficult!”

“You bloody confuse me sometimes. Now, about that spanked bottom then, son…” Thatcher purposely drew out the last word on that sentence, licking his lips seductively.

“I’d rather you just bent me over a took me dry as hard as you can.”

“That’s a thought to entertain, though it’ll be rather hard with a floppy willy. Have you forgotten that you’ve already ‘milked’ me twice today?”

“I’ll do it a third time if you want pops”

“You call me the horny bastard huh?” Small laughter erupted between the two of you after the little back and forth.  
A familiar arm pulled you in for a moment, as you shared the laughter and smiles before finally getting up and dressed.

“You know, (Y/n). You should probably sort yourself out quick…I’m still inside you, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t of forgotten already boyo.”

“Well I don’t feel your big meaty dick in my arse so I’m confused”

“You know what happens after I’ve been plowing you good eh? When daddy loves is son that much, he ejaculates inside him whilst having sexual intercourse.”

“Okay you don’t need to explain it like that, it’s a little weird”

“Says the one with daddy issues”

“You encourage them!”

“And truthfully, I love being your ‘daddy’.”

Never a dull moment with the Germans, always a touching moment with Thatcher.  
For some reason that struck a chord in you, and it hurt a little.

“Sometimes I wish you were my dad…”

“I asked you the other night if you wanted me to be just that”

“I know, but I wanted more than that”

“And I’m glad you did, because I wanted more of you”

“Guess it would be weird if you were my dad. I don’t think incestuous relationships are exactly legal, nor would they turn me on…though daddy issues is a weird one itself”

“I’d be worried if you were my son, though, there’s nothing stopping me from being your dad if you ever need one. I’m happy to be that father figure you need in life.”

“Without the awkwardness of it though, right?”

“But of course. I’d still want to fook your bloody brains out.”

“Everyone has probably seen Yumiko’s fucking Facebook post now haven’t they?”

“Shit…well, a majority at least. Guess it’s base official then isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so”

“Big step for you isn’t it, boyo.”

“I’m scared.”

Thatcher looked concerned when you told him that.

“What’s troubling ya, munchkin?”

“Everyone already hates me enough, and now everyone will think I’ve taken you from them, and changed you, and…all this other shit I don’t know how to explain! What if they don’t us being together, and try to separate us? What if they hate you too?”

“Don’t be silly (Y/n). Everyone here will have your back 100%.”

“A lot of them look at me funny. It reminds me of my parents, the way the looked at me. There wasn’t any emotion in their eyes. Just cold, dead stares. They scare me. I don’t want people to hate me.”

“No one hates you, they just think you’re a little brash and loud. They understand though, I know it. They just need to get used to ya!”

“They don’t understand Mike, not like you do.”

“They will understand in due time darling. You’ve got Dom, Marius and Elias too, don’t forget, they love you almost as much as I do! Fookin’ hell you four together are like inseparable brothers.”

“I feel like I can’t count on many others though. What if I get hurt on an op, and none of you are there. They’d probably leave me to die…”

“Fookin’ nonsense. They wouldn’t, ever.  
Besides, they know how much you mean to me, and they wouldn’t dare leave you behind because they’d have an angry Mike Baker after them. And an angry Mike Baker is terrifying! They’re terrified of me already.”

“Yeah but—”

“No buts. Also, a little secret, though you’d of figured it out in due time, I’ll be with you on all of your ops for however long it takes. I’m not just your daddy, and your partner. I’m your mentor, I’ll be taking care of you out in the field and in training. So don’t you worry.”

You sat in silence for what felt like hours, but in reality was only minutes.  
You failed to notice the cold air envelop you as Thatcher got off of the bed.  
Only realising he was on his feet when two large and coarse hands literally picked you up and put you on your feet.

“Did say, move yer arse lad.”  
Mike finished by covering your lips with his for a short, deep kiss.  
You slowly dressed into your clothes from earlier and watched as Thatcher pulled up his cotton boxer shorts and jeans, hiding away that succulent bulge of his. He slung his shirt over his shoulder before ushering you to follow him out of the bedroom.

You were stood in the kitchen moments later, and Thatcher had placed his shirt over one of the dining table chairs.  
10 minutes later and you had the stoves on with a couple pots and pans sitting atop of them.  
Slaving away at your rather simple dish that you had in mind, Thatcher taking the opportunity to press himself up against your back and hold your arms with his hands as he ‘helped’ you. He’s so warm and soft, you were melting in his touch.

“It smells wonderful” the comment was enough to put a smile on your face and fill you with confidence. You couldn’t fuck this up surely.

Then came time to serve, and it was perfect. Not an issue to be had.  
Your friends always likes your Thai green curry, and you’ve always been fond of it yourself. Though not a favourite, it was still up there in your top 5!

You filled the older man’s bowl generously, before filling yours with the rest that was left. Perfect serving sizes too!  
You both sat down at the table ready to dig in, though you managed to pause everything for a few seconds.

“You’re eating shirtless? I mean it’s a good idea…”

“Thought you’d like the view, gorgeous” the older man chuckled out.

“I do really like the view”

Not much else was to be said after that, and you both picked up your forks and tucked in.

“God, this is wonderful (Y/n)!” The compliment caught you by surprise, you could only smile a wide cheesy grin before thanking Mike.

Again, it went silent after that, so you could both focus on shovelling down your dinner.

It didn’t last long, the food went down a treat for both of you and you were finished up in no time. Clearing the table quick and washing up what was left took no more than 10 minutes.  
Thatcher lifted his arm up to look at his watch,  
“7:26. Those bastards will be expecting me any minute now. You’re welcome to come along if you’d like to sweetheart”

As tempting as the offer is, you couldn’t accept it.

“I’d love to Mike, but, I can’t be dealing with James. I just, aghhh, it’d be rich of me to call him immature when I act like a child sometimes myself, but, I just get this weird vibe from him. I know he’s the clown of the base, but something doesn’t seem right. I don’t want to start anything again.”

“I understand honey. What’ll you do whilst I’m gone eh?”

“Don’t have a clue honestly” it came out a little quieter than you expected as you answered the man.

“Well, first off, c’mere…” Thatcher really likes giving you hugs, his arms outstretched and he called you over with his wide eyes, staring you up and down.  
The still shirtless brute pulled you into his exposed chest, and, that manly, musky natural scent hit your nose, if you weren’t already calm and relaxed, that surely would of done the job.

“Want to come sit with us for a few minutes before I head out? James won’t try anything too stupid in front of everyone that would escalate into something big. Besides, I’d like to spend as much time with ya as I can.”

You couldn’t deny that offer.  
Looking up to the bearded bear, smiling you replied,  
“Yeah sure thing!”

You broke away from the small hug and watched as Thatcher picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head. He pat down his pockets, checking he has his wallet, phone and keys before heading out.  
Mike reached over, turning the light off behind him before letting you through first, exiting the dorm and locking the door.

His arm slung over your shoulder, both of you shuffling along the corridors at a snails pace, you felt Thatcher lean towards you and his beard was soon tickling your ear lobe, though what he whispered out made you blush like hell.

“You’ve still got all of my cum inside ya, boyo”

You almost laughed out loud, remembering that you’d both forgotten to clean up after the hard, rough romp.  
He really was something else, being able to exhaust you when he does most of the work, it was incredible.

“Yeah, well you’ve got my cum on your chest.”  
Laughing back, you saw his smirk forming at his lips before he even moved a muscle.

“You think they’d notice? ‘Cause I’d be surprised if they could through the smell of cigarette smoke and James’ shite bottles of Budweiser.”

“Wait, you smoke?”

“Have you seen me go out to smoke a fag yet?”

“True, true”

“Answers that then boyo. Though, I used to. Quit years ago, wasn’t doing me any good, and not everyone likes the taste of cigarettes in a kiss.”

“That is true too”

You arrived in the main lounge area soon after, and Mike didn’t plan on letting his arm slide from your shoulder, and you’re sure everyone in the room saw. You could see the three musketeers at one of the tables in the sofa chairs, Seamus waving you both over.

“Ye awrite Mikey?” Asked the Scotsman.

“Never bad Cowden! How’s yerself?”

“Naw doin’ bad either cake Baker. An’ awbout yerself laddie? Naw seen yer in a few days mate!”

“Yeah, not too bad I guess. Just keeping my head down and—”

Of course, guess who intervenes.

“Head down bobbing on Mike’s big ol’ nob”

“Suck your mum James!” You did find it rather funny, and tried suppressing a laugh as you tried to insult him back in a friendly tone.

“Suck your dad, (Y/n).”

Mike stood up and proceeded to unzip his jeans, pretending to pull out his monster.

“Y’heard him boyo, ready for seconds eh?”

“Oh okay too far Mike, we didn’t need to know that he’s already done you the pleasure of a blowie today.”

“You bloody asked for it, Porter.”

Mark finally spoke up “Yeah sorry mate, you left him open for it.”

James just sulked as he tried erasing the images that just got burnt into his mind.

“Gone be deadly honest with ya now Mike. Yumiko’s Facebook post…”

“Oh no”

“Fuckin’ adorable. Yer little laddie is doin’ yer wonders mate.”

Thatcher was rather taken aback at the Scotsman’s comment, he was expecting some sort of witty, Scottish slur in his usual jokey tone. “Thank you Seamus, it’s nice to hear some positivity”

“Oh my god did yOU GUYS SEE DOMINIC?! HE FUCKING MOONED 5 OF THE PHOTOS THE ABSOLUTE LEGEND!” Mute’s sudden outburst of hysterics has you choking and laughing as you remember the pictures and just see Bandit with his jeans halfway down his legs, bent over slightly whilst twisting his head and upper body around to face the camera, pulling a stupid pouty face.

“Wait what did Yumiko post?” James asked confused as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

It fell silent for a short minute whilst James flicked through his Facebook feed trying to find the post.  
Though everyone knew when he saw it,  
“Gaaaaaaaaaaay!”

“Thank you for pointing out my sexual orientation, Porter. I never would of known if it wasn’t for you.” The sarcasm dripped off of every word Mike spoke.

“Holy shit Dominic OH MY GOD THE MAD MAN!”

_“ **Dominic Brunsmeier** LEGENDARY MATE! You deserve a high five lol”_

Little did you all know that Dominic was just around the corner, and he made an entrance from the other side of the lounge area, and greeted you all before initiating a high five with James. Only to disappear out of the main entrance of the hall and possibly to his dorm. Timings huh?

A couple of minutes pass and everyone is engaging in conversation, except for you, who was spacing out, not really sure what you’re thinking about.

Then something hit your forehead. And again, and again, and again. You looked up to see James flicking your forehead, trying to get your attention.

“Yes mate, what do you want?”

“Nothing, just thought it’d be funny”

You just sighed as he carried on, not caring.  
Then Mike spoke up, “James, cut it out lad”

“Funny” such a short, simple reply.

Then they got harder, and harder, and more annoying.

“Please stop, you’re doing my nut in mate”

“Nah.”

What is his problem? It never ends well for him.

It carried on until you decided to do something. His hand came close to flick your forehead once again and you snapped your right hand up to grab his wrist, and proceed to twist it until he yelped.

“Aghhh you fucking wanker what was that for?!”  
The idiot really just asked you that.

“I asked you to stop politely.”

“Yeah you deserved that one James” Mark chimes in having your back.

“He doesn’t tell me what to do.”  
Why is he so defiant and stupid?

That’s when a fist came flying towards your forehead. You stood up instantaneously whilst engaging him to deflect the first punch and pushing him back for space.

“James, just stop please mate.” You called out before things escalated.

“But it’s funny”

So he threw a straight, aimed for your forehead again.  
2 seconds is all it took before it was over and Smoke was sat back in his seat. You took him on easily with a 5 hand Pak Sao and finished off with a slightly exaggerated one inch punch to the chest which knocked him back into the chair.

“Did ask you nicely…” you said as you sat back on your seat next to Thatcher. 

“Haha, fucking rekt mate” Mark laughed out loud giving the black haired Brit a pat on the back.

“Just saying, you’re lucky I didn’t go for your chin, James. You’d be spending the night in Doc’s office instead of the pub.”

James just murmured something under his breath and left it at that.

But before you know it, time came for them to leave for the pub, so you all stood up ready to go.

“Ye coming too laddie? More than welcome to” Seamus was the one to offer you to come along, though you already decided you wouldn’t get in their way.

“Nah, I’m staying here. Drinking isn’t my thing, and I don’t want to be an issue again”

“Ye weren’t an issue last time laddie, yer sure ye don’t wanna come?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Thank you though Seamus, I appreciate it”

You flashed him a smile and he and Mute flashed one back.

Thatcher’s hand held yours for a few seconds before he pulled you into him,  
“Any idea what yer doin’ tonight sweet?” His hands made their way down to your hips as he held you close.

“Might go and bother Dom and Marius if they’re free, I don’t know really” it was an honest answer, you weren’t entirely sure what you’d do.

“Well, don’t do anything too stupid whilst I’m gone, alright beautiful? I’ll be back soon, I love you (Y/n).” Thatcher finished by sealing his lips to yours in a sweet and passionate kiss. His hands slowly slipped away from your hips and his touch was merely ghosting your hips as he slowly backed away.

You grasped his hand quickly and gently, pulling him in to give you one more hug before he went.

“I love you too, Mike.” His large, warm hand rubbed the back of your head momentarily which really soothed you. It was pure bliss.

“Awright ye lovey-dovey sappy old bastard, ‘mon en, we got a pub to attend!” Seamus called across the room.

Breaking apart once more so he can finally get off, you felt a little lonely already.

“I’ll see ya later sweetheart, you be a good boy for me alright?”

“I’ll try”

Like that, he disappeared from sight and you decided to head straight to the Germans dorm room.

*Knock Knock Knock*

“Ja wer ist es?” (Yes, who is it?) Marius yelled from the other side of the door.

“Lemme in Marius, am bored and lonely.”

The door opened and you’re greeted to the sight of Marius in a full pyjama outfit, with fucking ducks plastered over it.

“Oh, it’s you (Y/n). Next time just walk in it’s usually unlocked”

You looked up to meet Jäger’s gaze before stepping in.  
“I’ll remember that for next time, though I’d feel a little awkward walking in like that.”

“Ah don’t worry too much about it mein freund”

“(Y/n), nice to see you! We’re just about to fire up the Xbox and have a night in, it’d be cool if you joined us!”

“Yeah wicked mate, I’m down! Just made me remember I had my own Xbox, spent hours on that with my mates”

“Should bring it home when you next get a chance to visit your old place”

That stuck to you, “home huh?” mumbling under your breath.

“Not sure how Mike would react to me bringing something like that home though. I mean, he hardly uses the TV, it’d probably annoy him”

“He loves you dummkopf! He wouldn’t mind at all. Anyway, you ever played Street Fighter 4 before (Y/n)?”  
You looked to the tattooed German like he was an idiot. He was right about Mike though, he probably wouldn’t mind.

“Uh, yeah man, I used to play that for hours on end!” 

Simple enough, and that was that. You’d all sat down on the gigantic beanbags, taking turns fighting each other on Street Fighter. It gave you good vibes, like the time you and your friends would stay up all night playing games around their house, split-screening, taking turns, it felt good. You felt like you were at home, your happy home.

Turns out all three of them are really good at the game, Elias being just slightly better than Marius and Dominic. Though none of you ever managed more than a 3 win streak, it was all very close and intense.

You spent a good 2 hours with them on Street Fighter before everyone agreed to change it up.

Something caught Bandit’s eyes though. He noticed something with you when you were sat down, and decided on embarrassing you by bringing it up.

“Mike give you a good seeing to before he left (Y/n)?”

Your eyes widened in shock, how did he know?

“I-uh, you…what? How’d—”

“You can’t sit still properly. Still sore I guess.”

“Twat”

“I did tell him to do you extra hard when he next does. Did he?”

“That’d explain why he didn’t prepare me and pounded me dry like an animal…” you tried keeping it hushed as you said it, your cheeks burnt red in shyness.

“Haha! I’m going to have to thank him”

And he did. Pulling out his phone and going straight to the contacts list.

“There we go, Mike Baker, mobile, text…”

**Dom: Can’t believe you actually fucked him so hard that he can’t sit still! You’re a living legend, pops.**

**Mike: He’s still squirming eh? He looked a little uncomfortable during dinner, and in the lounge. Glad to know that you’ve noticed, Brunsmeier. Go easy on the poor sod.**

**Dom: He’s the one who should go easy on me! He’s been beating my ass on Street Fighter!**

**Mike: You kids and your fucking video games. Will you ever grow up Dominic?**

**Dom: Unlikely. Well, have a nice time anyway!**

**Mike: You too mate**

The bearded German pocketed his phone and returned to reality. Picking up where you left off, all deciding that you’re going to play Left 4 Dead 2.

“Marius, where’s the other TV and Xbox?”  
Elias asked as he stood up.

“Schau hinter dich” (look behind you).

“Oh. Danke” (thank you).

“Arschgeige” (dickhead).

Giggles erupted from the four of you whilst Elias set about plugging the other TV in and Xbox.  
Soon enough everyone booted up and was in a lobby together. You and Dominic on one console split-screen. Elias and Marius on the other.

“Start from first mission ja?” Blitz asked.

“Duh!”  
The go ahead was given and you all plummeted into the world of L4D2, prepared to spend hours on it, having a laugh.

More than 3 hours passed whilst you all had fun playing games with one another. You felt welcomed with these 3, and welcomed enough to fight the demons inside you, trying to win the fight in your mind, whether you stay here or go. They really were like brothers to you. You’d casually talk and joke with them about things that would leave you speechless around others. Things that, if said by most other people, would leave you in a boiling fit of rage, were thrown about and laughed off without a care in the world. You clicked with them and they really clicked with you.

You turn around to see Jäger is sat on his and Blitz’s beanbag upside down, his fluffy duckling slippers covering his feet. It amazed you how he can manage to play like that without issue.

Then your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You proceeded to pull out the device to see Mike’s name appear, telling you that you have a message from him 15 minutes ago.  
“Why’d it take this long to send me a notification” was what sat in your mind for a whole 3 seconds.

**Mike: Hey sweetheart, daddy’s home and a little tired, I’m off to bed. Just want to know where you are before I try and turn in alright? Xx**

You pocketed your phone and stood up.  
“Sorry lads, short notice, only just realised what the time is, I should really get to bed just in case. I don’t want to overstay my welcome either. Thanks for letting me chill though, it was wicked!”  
You smiled to them all, Dominic being the first to stand before embracing you in a small hug.

“Welcome anytime mein freund. You can stay as long as you want too! You’re our brother!” It only really hit how heavy his German accent it, yet his English is crisp and clear. It goes for all them here.

“Ja, anytime (Y/n). You’re our family too, so don’t feel like you’re being a burden around us” added the duck slipper wearing German. Before long all of them were giving you a small hug before waving you off as you left.

You felt so good.

You arrived to your dorm pretty soon, trying to be quiet down the halls.

The door was unlocked so you could enter, and Thatcher had left the key in the lock for you to do the honours.  
You took your shoes off and crept through the dark living room to the bedroom, where the faintest glow of warm light could be seen through the cracks of the door.

You tiptoed in just in case Mike was asleep already.  
Opening the door slowly you entered the room to see Mike sat up, covers barely covering his bare waist.

“There you are darling. Are you alright?” It almost sounded like Mike worries about you too much, but you didn’t think too much of that.

“Yeah I’m okay…I missed you” you really did. God you love him so much, it’s hard being away from him.

“I missed you too babe.”

Sleep seemed like a good idea, you already got to work undressing down to nothing. Putting your clothes to the side neatly.

“C’mere sweetie” you didn’t take much convincing from the older man. Climbing into bed you were already snuggling up into the veteran, his arms pulling you in and down as Thatcher laid himself out in the bed properly.

“Get nice and comfy boy” Mike’s voice wasn’t exactly loud when he spoke, but the quietness seemed to make his voice boom out through the room.

You took that as your permission to bury yourself into his chest and latch onto the older man. Soon enough there was that familiar heartbeat and those warm, comforting hands. You let out a small groan of approval as his grip slightly tightened.

“Goodnight (Y/n), I love you so fookin’ much”

Bearded lips tickled your brow as Thatcher placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too Mike. Night night” you were barely mumbling into the hairs on the Brits broad chest before nuzzling him and eventually falling asleep.


	14. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I’ve taken forever to update, things haven’t exactly been great tbh.
> 
> I shall soldier on though!

##### One month later

The main lounge was rather busy this morning, though volume was down to a minimum. General chatter and laughter could be heard across the room yet you could easily listen to your own thoughts.  
Not that you wanted to, most of the time your own thoughts made you feel like shit.  
So instead you settled for Mike’s endless ranting and Marius’ whinging whilst you sipped away at your coffee. You were surprised to of been joined by the rest of the SAS lads and furthermore, James wasn’t being a dick. Dominic also joined your table as well as Gilles, one of the GIGN operatives who was there on _that day_ in February.

Though you were soon rudely interrupted a tall, red headed Frenchman.  
“Baker, (Y/n), Six needs you both. Come, s’il vous plait.”

“Waaaahey! I’m needed for something finally” unable to hold back, you jumped out of your seat excitedly.

Mike followed suit but in a more orderly fashion, standing tall over you, necking down his coffee. You only managed half of yours, deciding to offer the rest to Dominic who was struggling to keep his eyes open.

With beady eyes and the most polite tone did the bearded German express his gratitude,  
“Danke mein kleiner Bruder!” (Thank you my little brother).

Over your short time here in Hereford, you’ve picked up a little German, though not confident speaking wise, you understood a substantial amount to the point that you could start eavesdropping in on their conversations when they speak only in their mother tongue.

You’d been in a small daydream on the walk to Six’s office, completely ignoring Mike and Olivier who had been trying to get your attention.

“Ready eh?” Asked the bearded man.

You heard him this time.

“Yeah”

The door to Six’s office opened inwards, courtesy of the typically arrogant Frenchman. The same one that Mike once decked during a training exercise, and then later became a close friend of. Something in your mind suggested that they did a little more than hug it out though during their heart to heart when Olivier broke down in tears to Mike on their month long mission. The older man told you the story once before, though didn’t give the entire details, more for the Frenchman’s privacy. He used to be a lot like you are currently, though the scale of things might not be quite as bad on his end, it’s not a competition though, and you both got on rather well, forming a friendship over your taste in music and love for animals. He was more of a cat person though, where as you preferred dogs.

“Ah, all here, lovely. Baker, Flament, El Fassi, (Y/n), Thorn, you can probably guess as to why you’re here.” His back turned to you all, trying to act all dramatic with his hand gestures and cool voice.

“Does it take a genius when there’s clearly a 5 man squad stood around your desk, Harry?”

“Alright Baker, it’s good to hear that you know why.”

“My apologies Mr. Hollywood.” Mike’s sarcastic tone had you all snickering as Harry still stood with his back towards you, his head slightly turned towards you all and the lighting catching his glasses perfectly to reflect right off.

Harry finally turned around to face the five of you. Hand waving for you all to sit, which everyone did, until you realised that there’s only space for 4 to sit. You didn’t mind standing though, you’d been sat around enough recently.

“It’s a little late notice, but the White Masks advanced quicker than expected. We’ve been keeping track of a small group of them, who have now settled in to the small Hungarian village of Hollókő. Rough population of 370. We weren’t sure what they are planning, but, we’ve seen convoy’s of them flooding in since 05:47 this morning, and they seem to be hiding underground.”

Six drew your attention to the board which was littered with scruffy notes and pictures. One side was dedicated to the operatives in Rainbow, with them having coloured string connecting one another. You could see your photograph up there with green strings connecting to all of the Germans, as well as one to Thatcher that also had a rather large note attached to it. The rest of the green strings were attached to Lion, Sledge, Hibana, Warden, Echo and Ash too.  
Lion and Thatcher had a red piece of string connecting and a note, which seems to be rather negative. Most of it talking of their altercation, it seems that Six isn’t aware that the two get along soundly, almost like long lost mates even.  
You looked back to your photo and tried counting the red strings, not a surprise to see Smoke is one of the first, even with multiple notes attached. It got boring after a while, so you decided to start concentrating on what’s important.

“This is why you’ve been chosen for this Flament. Your EE-One-D drone should be able to scan the undersurface hideout, and hopefully be able to draw out a map.”

“Of course. The sound waves will be able to reverberate off the walls if I can sneak it close to an entrance. And of course, always happy to help. Any means to make this operation go safely” returned the redhead. 

“Baker, El Fassi. You’re both extremely experienced, and will help keep things in check. Due to the amount of white masks I’ve seen in the area, I’ll need you taking point from the back, so as well as your standard equipment, Thatcher, you’ll be equipped with our one and only DSR-Precision DSR-50. Name suggests, it is chambered in .50 BMG. I’ll expect you will push in on the first assault as cover—” 

“Daddy gets to play with the big guns, I like this already” 

“Don’t get an erection just yet. After the initial breakthrough, once Flament has finished his scan, I’ll need him to retreat with you as your back up. El Fassi, Thorn and (Y/n) will continue in, being better equipped short range. The reason behind the .50 BMG anti-materiel rifle is because you may need to take down drivers if any try making a break, as well as adequate cover fire for your team on their exit in case a few still lurk. Baker, you’ve got a little extra weight on your shoulders, but, you two will do well—”

That subtle reminder for the older man ended up with you facing an awkward moment, as Mike grabbed a hold of your shirt and pulled you down to sit on his lap, ”Bloody sit down boyo—” it was a little embarrassing.  
“Yes I know, he’ll be alright with me.” Rumbled the veteran SAS operative.

Harry continued on, “Thorn, you know a relatively large amount of Hungarian. It may help as this operation may take a few days, and being situated near a small village as such, they may not be quite as accustomed to ‘tourists’, so English speakers may be scarce.”

“Got it.”

“Your flight is in 7 hours. You’ll be going commercial rather than private. We aren’t sending a helo out on this one as it shouldn’t be required. We want you guys in and out in the least conspicuous way possible. Your return flight is scheduled for 4 days from now. Once at Cardiff airport, you will be escorted through the majority of security and such due to your baggage, so make sure you have your badges and identification in check.”

“Hold on, 7 fookin’ hours?! That’s late bloody notice, that’s not like you Harry.”

Six locked on to Mike, and you momentarily, as he took in the rather humouring sight.  
“Yes, the problem is that these White Masks have been unpredictable. Just as we thought we’d have deduced their every move, they’d change it up. Earlier this morning they had multiplied in number and their movements are becoming frantic, making us think that they’re almost ready to launch some sort of attack .”

The older man’s grip slightly tightened on you before he opened his mouth to reply.  
“Alright alright, I see.”

Harry continued on, “We need them taken care of ASAP. Once you arrive, another one of my contacts will meet you after you’ve picked up your casual luggage. From there you will go and claim your equipment and, from then, he will drive you the rest of the way to the forest outside of the village. We have two tents that you’ll be using. I highly suggest using the camouflage netting over them, just in case they have some sort of aerial reconnaissance drones, they won’t spot you through the trees as easily. I expect them to be dealt with before you return home. You’re dismissed.”

It was that quick and ‘simple’. 7 hours until you’re shipped off to another country, and there’s the small chance that you won’t be coming home. It’s scary.

“Baker, is that really a suitable place for (Y/n) to sit?”

“Where else would he sit Harry? There aren’t any other seats. Besides, it’s not the first time he’s sat here.”

Your cheeks went red. Really red. You could feel them burning up as your eyes widened at the older man’s comment.

Six just looked at you both with a cocked eyebrow and a small smirk, which disappeared when you stood up along with everyone else.

He was thinking something.

You felt two hands rest on your shoulders, pushing you along gently and out of the room.

“Nervous eh?” Asked the hirsute Brit.

You struggled to get a word out for a second, almost stammering at the first syllable.  
“Y-Yeah a little I guess.”

“You’ll be alright lad” Thatcher’s reassuring words seemed to help you somewhat as you felt a small pressure in your chest get lifted.

Time passed quickly. Way too quickly. You packed a duffel bag with a couple of simple white undershirts and a couple of night clothes. Moving to the gear room you finally got to get your hands on your work attire. It was extremely similar to the SAS’ attire, if anything, exactly the same, just without the world famous logo and slogan emblazoned on it, instead, it was replaced with the Team Rainbow ‘6’ and your own title underneath it. It was cool.

“Should check to see if it fits ya should we?” Thatcher nudged your shoulder whilst holding up your trousers.

He was right, you should.  
You haven’t tried them before.  
So you did, and it fit perfectly, what did you expect honestly?  
The fabric was surprisingly comfortable and flexible, not skin tight but not too baggy.

“Good eh?”

You could only nod and smile, removing the gear off of your back and packing it away. Once your bag was sorted, you all moved into the armoury room, grabbing secure carry cases. You all sorted your weapons out, giving them a check over, making sure they’re all unloaded as well as the magazines before placing them in your cases.

Then you sorted out ammunition, spare parts, maintenance kits and cleaning kits. Ammo had to be in its original box, and that all went in a separate secure carry case, along with equipment and extra gear.

Once you were sorted there, you all went over once again to make sure you have everything, essentials and necessities.  
Like that, you were ready to go. Everyone met up with their bags in hand ready to head out.

Your driver for the journey into sheep shagger country was Tori, known as Gridlock. Very chatty and friendly Australian operative, from the SASR CTU.

The drive to Cardiff airport was rather easy. Mike, being the kindhearted old sap that he secretly is, took his space in the middle with you, Jalal took the front seat whilst Olivier and Erik took the rear seats.  
Everyone was chatting for the ride, though it’s hard to keep quiet in Tori’s presence as she livens the atmosphere, telling her stories of the outback, or the times Max “Mozzie” Goose, her counterpart from down under, would actively seek out the most dangerous routes to take on his bike. She said that he would always tell her before doing it, “I’m gonna send it!” Tori always took that as her cue to get the tools on standby, and maybe the number for a specific emergency service.

You spent the majority of the drive leaning on the older man’s shoulder whilst he kept his hand over yours, rubbing circles on the back with his thumb. There’s something incredibly soothing about that little motion.

“Careful leaning on old Thatchy there, kiddo! You might damage his ancient, fragile bones.”

Your eyes shot straight to the rear view mirror as you caught Gridlock staring at the both of you.  
You couldn’t keep off of the man, constantly craving his touch and attention. Guess that’s one thing that sucks about these daddy issues of yours. You’ve managed to develop attachment issues too, and one thing that always plays on your mind is “am I begging for him too much?”

“Tosser” it was light and humorous, the small chuckled escaped Mike’s rather quiet lips.  
It earned you both a rather big grin and a playful laugh from the Australian woman.

Yet that little reassurance didn’t quite stick to you. You’d feel at ease moments later though, when the studly Brit turns to face you with his calming gaze and that charming smile. His comforting words etched into your mind. To you, he was happy to have you and loved you.  
It wasn’t a lie you would tell yourself either, though you’d have to thoroughly remind yourself not to dwell too deep on such a thing. Remembering.  
Mike would spend hours in bed awake just to hold you close and whisper in your ear.

Often times when you’d wake up from a nightmare, he’d be there, tired eyes observing you carefully, and gentle hands brushing through your short soft hair.  
Worn, calloused thumbs would wipe away the tears under your eyes with a silk like touch. You craved that. Just the little things.

Last week during a formal dinner, at a very high end restaurant, that was held for Aurelia Arnot, who Harry took over from as director, Thatcher almost darted across the bar area to you just to fiddle with your tie and collar that was only very slightly off. Embarrassing? Maybe a little. But he’s a sweet man. He worries about you a lot and it was quite obvious. Remembering every little thing he’s done for you already so far warms you up inside.

Once you arrived at the airport, you were immediately greeted by contact one. Six hadn’t given any of you his name, and he never gave one to any of you. But the mystery added to the excitement.

Turns out that you can get through security almost 5 times as quickly as normal passengers would. Luggage other than your carry on was already dealt with, and your weapons and ammunition was sent in for inspection accordingly. You all had to answer some questions and fill out a few forms, but it didn't take too long.

From then on, you were left to your own devices before the flight.

Man were you bored out of your mind, wandering the shops with Olivier whilst Mike, Jalal and Erik decided to sit down for a cuppa and probably talk about old man shite.

Minutes of silence passed before either of you attempted engaging in conversation.

“You and Baker huh? How did that happen?”  
It came out of the blue, but you couldn’t ignore the Frenchman. You didn’t want to come off as rude. Though you didn’t have much of an answer for it.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. It just…happened!”

“Some Romeo and Juliet kind of thing? He came to your bedside, lets pretend it’s the balcony, and professed his love in a long drawn out confession?”

“Nah, not something stupid like that” you couldn’t help but let out a short, hearty laugh at the tall Frenchman’s thought.

“Tell me, first night, how did he come on to you? I’m not making it too awkward for you am I?”

“Oh no no, it’s fine. I’ve been embarrassed enough already so far, this is nothing—”  
Starting off with a chuckle to keep the mood light.  
“I, uh…wasn’t in the best of moods. It was a couple days after my first altercation with Porter. Things just piled up and I locked myself away for the day. You know that feeling right? Feels like everyone is against you. You feel hopeless and lost, and alone. That.”

You felt a light tap on your shoulder as Lion rest his hand for a few seconds.  
“I know how that feels. Ive been there before mon ami” (my friend).

“Well, he got me to open up to him. I spilled out, everything. Everything on my mind and all that depressing shit that’s eating me away. I got frustrated and walked off, went to get into bed but Mike caught up to me, hugged me, and took it further. I didn’t mind, and hey look, it’s working out I guess.”

“You’re awfully vague if I do say so, but, I guess an airport isn’t the place to be talking about such things. I can tell that the old man likes you a lot. He’s relaxed a lot since you’ve arrived and it’s doing him good.”

“He’s doing me good too”

Lion let out the biggest laugh he possibly could, drawing the attention of everybody nearby to the two of you. It hit you hard, realising your cock up.

“NO NO NO NOT LIKE THAT SHUT UP!” Screeching at the top of your lungs in an attempt to cover yourself.

“I know what you meant, (Y/n)” 

“Thank god…”

“He must really do you good if you struggle to sit down so much.”

You glanced at him with the biggest evils you could, “Suck your mum!”

You could both only laugh at the stupid little moment you both had.

It soon came to an end as you had been notified that your gate would be opening in 5 minutes, though it wasn’t all so bad as you were walking up to a Starbucks, with a small line luckily.

“Want a Princess Dommy-wommy-woowoo special?”

“Dear Lord, please don’t smite me for what I must say, but what in the Jesus fucking Christ is that? To have such a name it must be spectacular.”

“Large double shot hazelnut iced latte with whipped cream on top.” You replied with the exact order that Dominic put in during your afternoon trip to Hereford a month ago.

“Let’s do it! Anything else, (Y/n)?” Lion asked before stepping up to the counter. 

“Nah just that is good, here…” You gave him a thumbs up before tossing him your wallet.

Moments later you’re given your wallet back which Olivier didn’t even bother using, and handed over what could only be explained as diabetes in a cup.

“You should have used my card to pay mate.”

“Non, I insist I pay for you mon ami” (no…my friend).

You couldn’t really argue now that it was already done and paid for, and you were on your way to the gate where you’d meet up with the rest of the team.

The iced latte wasn’t half bad either, though rather sweet, the coffee seemed just right, and it was easily manageable.  
You could see why the German really liked these!

“I think the barista overheard the name you gave these. She wrote Princess Olivier on the cup.”

“Yeah, you’re not the only Princess here…” looking to your own cup, she definitely heard.

You arrived at the gate in decent time, finding the other three stood around. Not much of a surprise there.

The flight was only 3/4 full, and all five of you had the back row of seats on the 737.

“First time flying eh boyo?”

It was, and to say you weren’t nervous would be a big lie.  
“Yeah…”

“Take the window seat, you’ll love it” a rough hand was placed on your back as the older man let you through first to sit down. You passed your small backpack to the Brit who was putting the bags in the overhead.

Olivier chose to sit with Jalal and Erik whilst you and Mike took the left side of the aisle. There were a couple rows ahead of you that were empty, yet somehow the one seat left next to you and Mike was taken by a complete stranger. He didn’t even think about moving to the row ahead that was free. It was slightly annoying.

“Sure you don’t mind sitting in the middle, Mike? You look a little uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be alright boyo, don’t ya worry about me” he replied, giving you a small pat on the thigh for reassurance.

You took that as you should, relaxing in your seat as the veteran operative does the same.  
Then you waited for what seemed like an eternity. It was only 20 minutes, but being sat down doing nothing for that long on a plane, feeling quite nervous still, it felt a lot longer.

Finally, the plane taxied on to the runway, followed by 5 more minutes of waiting.  
Then it was time. Fingers were tapping furiously, knee bouncing but you tried to keep a straight face.  
You could hear the jet engines quite literally roaring, the entire plane vibrating and you were pinned in your seat. Then it took off, it was a weird feeling.  
Your hands shaking as your nerves got the better of you, that was until a soothing warm palm took yours carefully, squeezing tightly.

“First times are always nerve wracking,” Thatcher began speaking, which caught your attention. “—just like having your virginity taken. You loo almost the same as you did then.”

Did Mike really just say that out loud? Next to this complete stranger who probably thought he’s sat next to your normal father and son? You peeked to the right to see the strangers facial expression had blown up, with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. He was trying not to make any sort of sound or even draw attention to him. Must of caught him off guard.  
Caught you off guard that’s for sure.

“You’re a dick sometimes Mike.”

“You like my dick don’t ya?”

You just gazed at him in disbelief. He’s on fire today.  
You couldn’t just leave him hanging though, and you don’t like to lie, so you sheepishly murmured out an answer.

“Yeah…”

For the next few minutes you just stared at the veteran SAS operative, that was until he snapped you out of your gawking state, nudging your shoulder.

“Go on and look out the window son”

So you did as you were told, and it took you by surprise. Seeing an entire town, the roads and cars traveling along. Fields surrounding the buildings. They were all just little specks to you.  
Then all you could see were clouds. Now you were above the clouds. It was amazing. Every emotion flowed through your body.

Then something came back to you, changing your mood slightly.

“I’ve never believed in heaven, still don’t, but when I was little, all the kids used to say heaven was in the clouds. I always said I want to lie in the clouds because they look comfy and soft—”

You took a deep breath before continuing.

“Obviously it’s impossible to…but, do you think my friends are laying in the clouds waiting for me? Y’know, it won’t be long until I meet them again…”

Thatcher let a small sigh escape his furry lips,  
“Don’t bloody say that (Y/n), sweetheart—I’m sure they’re happy and watching over you, all of them are I’m sure.”

“Fucking bullshit man, they should be happy and alive. Shouldn’t be pretending they’re watching over me like they’d actually do something if I need the help. They’re gone…” 

“I know (Y/n) I’m so sorry matey, just take it easy babe. Breathe. Atta-boy.”

So very gentle and warm. His hands were magical. You’re sure that you have an amazing supernatural ability, but it’s rather useless. It’s one where you can all of a sudden turn things dark and depressing in a matter of seconds. Your mind always wandered to those thoughts, and you’d end up speaking them without thinking.

———

Sometime during the flight, the armrest separating you and Mike was lifted and out of the way. You leant against the older man, finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder, though that spot on his shoulder became unavailable when he slipped his arm over your shoulders. Holding on to you lightly with his left hand, which made the turbulence that you encountered a lot easier. It was all still rather terrifying being your first time flying. Everything out of your control.

Instead, your head gently rested on the side of his chest, slightly under his arm that he comforts you with.  
Butterflies. They broke free again, sending that intense tingling sensation all throughout your stomach and chest. Warmth filled you from head to toe in the cold, pressurised cabin. Relaxing.  
It was definitely up there along with orgasms, being some of the most pleasurable feelings in the world, though almost unexplainable. It leaves goosebumps all over.

“Ya really like a cuddle don’t ya, boyo—”

And you really like his voice too.

“Any chance you get eh? Who can blame ya…”

No one could, the man who introduced you to cuddles and snuggles, god, it was like a drug. So addictive.

Soon after getting comfortable, you passed out. It seemed to be the only thing to do whilst you soared the skies.

Though you passed out for quite a long time. You had already landed when you woke up, and standing up didn’t work.  
The seatbelt hugged you tightly, though you don’t remember putting it back on after the end of the last turbulence.  
Of course you wouldn’t, because you didn’t.

“Have a nice nap, sweet?” The first words you heard brought you into the world of wake kindly.  
Thatcher reached over and swiftly released your seatbelt for you. You didn’t need help with it, but, you always appreciate the little things he does for you too.

Looking out of the window you were greeted by the sight of tarmac, people walking back and forth and those luggage haulers traversing the rather crowded runway.  
Turning your head back to the older man, staring at him slightly confused.

It’s quiet.

Then you decide to ask the stupid question, “Have we landed?”

“I wouldn’t have a bloody clue.”

“Oh”

“Of course we’ve fookin’ landed. Weren’t ya just looking out the window?” Thatcher playfully punched your arm as he chuckled.

Your reply was slow, a little quiet, and stupid.

“Maybe…”

“Need a little waking up don’t ya?”

Your lips parted and you let out a long, drawn out groan, “Coffee”

“Kiss” replied the hirsute Brit.

“Coffee”

“Later, sweet” Mike’s voice was hushed, but loud. His breath tickled your neck and ear, his hand came up to your cheek, turning your head to face him.

Kiss it was, short, sweet and deep. Definitely woke you up. But you still wanted coffee.

“Okay Baker, calm down you old perv” the lanky Frenchman piped up, giving the older man a pat on the back as he passed by.

“Oi, what was that Flament?!” Ya want another decking?” Mike couldn’t resist adding in the little reminder in his question.

“I’m just saying mon ami, I never struck you to be the touchy touchy feely feely type” (my friend) Lion almost shouted back as he kept walking down the aisle.

Thatcher stood up and scratched his beard, trying to figure out what the Frenchman meant

“Have I changed that much?”  
He asked you.

You shrugged, “How would I know? I’ve only known you to be like this…obviously”

Thatcher hesitated before responding,“Yes, that is true” the older Brit finally realised how stupid he sounded asking you a question you couldn’t possibly know the answer to.

You stood, stretching both arms and legs, and it felt good. Mike was reaching up into the overhead luggage bins, grabbing the carry on bags.  
You could only look up at the towering bear of a man. He was tall. You couldn’t avert your eyes from the hem of his shirt. It had slightly rode up his torso, exposing his hair coated body. His shirt seemed rather tight on him too, did he wear one a size smaller than normal? Or is it one of those tight, short shirts?

“You’re gawking, darling”

No surprise there.

You fixed yourself up quickly before standing up and joining Mike in the aisle, before exiting the plane and making your way to customs.

Luckily, you all got through customs and baggage claim effortlessly, or so as effortlessly as possible whilst traveling with firearms and military gear.

That is, no thanks to Dr. Pandey’s contact, and that isn’t a sarcastic comment either.  
He was a massive help, and it only took you at most, 35 minutes, until you all walked out of the doors of Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport.

Add another 2 minutes on top and the 5 of you were being introduced to your ‘taxi driver’. A local to the area, and serving in the special forces.

Once acquainted, the contact disappeared. Mysterious they come, and gone without a trace.  
Where does Harry find these people?

Somewhere along the way you managed to blank out. Now finally realising that you’re in the car and on the way to your destination, a 1 hour and 16 minute drive away.

Your driver was talkative, though you didn’t pay much attention to the mumbo-jumbo, only tuning in once you realised he was talking about something important.

“These uh, white masks, they took over Hollókő castle. They use the underground to hide themselves. The local peoples don’t have idea that they are there, they seem to manage a disguise, it looks like castle is under for maintenance. We don’t want alert local villagers because if they evacuate or panic, it could cause terrorists to change their plan. They seem to be hiding in plain sight, so you need do this carefully.”  
His English may be broken but it’s still very good. You could understand the important information so you took that in and let it set in your mind.

Like it was programmed into your brain, you shut off for the rest of the ride, leaning against the older man on your left, staring out of the window at the passing scenery.

Time doesn’t seem to exist for you when you’re deep in thought, but it became apparent that you were almost at your destination when you notice you arm had gone dead, and the road was bumpy as hell! Tall, thick trees surrounded the road, the little sunlight that was left barely broke through the verde canopy.

You were very close to your destination actually. The car was slowing down, in the middle of nowhere it seems.  
The forest was going to be your home for the next few days.

“Okay, forest provides many cover for you. Hollókő is 2 kilometres away from here. The castle is close side so you don’t need walk through village. It may startle local if they see military walking through streets”.

It’s a valid point he’s making.  
Considering the location, why the white masks have holed up here is weird, but, a tiny little village like this could be the perfect testing ground for terrorist forces. Who knows? Maybe they’re planning on overrunning the village and wanting to expand it? They took the castle over which wasn’t inhabited, or even open to anybody, and if they really have gone as far as to pose as construction workers on the surface, then the village people wouldn’t even doubt it for a second.

It’s not nice admitting, but the white masks are somewhat intelligent. It could just be coincidental, but they’ve put thought into it. Shame that it’s going to end very shortly.

Everyone grabbed bags and gear from the car, before bidding farewell to the driver, who you all hope to see again in a few days time.

So now the five of you trekked ahead into the forest, making sure to get out of sight from the road and deep enough in where wanderers won’t find you.  
It didn’t take long though, finding some sort of dug out. It was like a big hole in the ground with natural dirt walls almost covering an entire 360° angle. Trees provided plenty of aerial cover as well. First thing to do now was set up the tents.

Yeah, that went well.

Set up the tent.  
One of them has been scrapped already, finding that it has gigantic holes in both the floor and one wall. Brilliant. You’d of thought that you’d be using some of the best equipment in the world.

25 minutes later into the gruelling task, and tent number 2, which is the only tent in service, was standing and ready for use. You placed the camouflage netting over the tent whilst Erik and Olivier hunted for things like dry wood and bushes that could be used as extra camouflage. Can’t ever be too safe.

The tent isn’t made to fit more than 3 comfortably, and the small separate room in the back was used to place bags, clothes, gear, weapons and ammo, as that also needs protection from the elements.  
But you were sure it’ll be alright for a few days.

With everything set up and checked over, you all gathered around to go over plans, tactics and safety precautions, before getting right to work, gearing up and heading out to do some reconnaissance.

“Just like that and we’re ready to crack on? Nice one!” You almost seemed too excited for this. Like the realisation that this is the real deal hasn’t hit you yet.  
All the intense training this past month will be put to use, and one tiny mistake can cost you your life, and maybe your teams.

Now the realisation hit. So you calmed down, took a few deep breaths and focused.

“Don’t ya worry lad, with luck, we shouldn’t be seeing any action tonight. Just scoutin’ it out and getting a sense of our surroundings”. That eases you too, though it was exactly what you said to yourself over and over too, just hearing it come from someone else reassured you.

“Yeah, I know Mike, I know” you flashed a smile to the older man as you walked beside him.  
All five of you trudged through the mud and leaves of the forest, though not much of a peep escaped yours, or their lips as you journeyed onwards to the hill that overlooks the castle.

“Fookin’ stunning ain’t it?”


	15. Hollókő Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spicy boys hiding in a castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/10 summary.
> 
> Also, to many…or really, a few of your dismay, I am not dead.
> 
> Probably should be but I’m not so I guess that’s…good?
> 
> My motivation is low, basically, and also my controller is fucked so I’ve not been able to play some damn video games with my damn friends and it’s damn sad.
> 
> Also, Domino’s pizza let me down a few weeks back, and I’m still mad about that now, because I was so excited to finally get myself a pizza from Domino’s (the closest one to me is 50 miles away—I was visiting family this time), and after ordering my pizza, customised how I like and all, I get it, check the box, label says yeah all good what I ordered, drove 10 miles back to my brother’s, open box…not what I ordered.
> 
> What worse is that half of it was relatively close to what I ordered, the other half was sweetcorn, mushrooms and chicken. My issue being that my brother is allergic to mushrooms and I dislike them in general…so yeah, still pissed off about that. Also, they refuse to give me my money back. So I give up.
> 
> ———————————————
> 
> I was hoping to post this chapter earlier than this, but here we are, waiting even longer.  
> I wish what I’m about to say was all a lie, and that it isn’t real, but…I lost another friend of mine.  
> This hit close to home for me too.
> 
> He was the sweetest, most loving and funny person I knew.  
> There really wasn’t a bad bone in his body.  
> Everywhere he was, he would light up with a smile. No matter the situation either he, I or anyone else was in, he’d be smiling, and he’d have us all laughing along too.
> 
> Just his presence could raise our spirits and on the days we didn’t see him, he was missed.
> 
> He was goofy, hardworking, funny, kind and loving.  
> There’s so many more words I could describe him with, yet, his character you couldn’t really describe him with words at all. His character was truly him, and he describes himself as he lived.
> 
> No one, and I really do mean no one could even dislike him if they tried.  
> The first day we met, he was maybe a little shy, but within seconds he blossomed like the beautiful flower that he is.
> 
> Coming to think of it, I don’t think anyone disliked him, and I don’t know how anyone could.
> 
> Everyone that knew him well enough to be a close friend already knows that you’re more than just friends with him. He’s like a sibling.  
> He was like a brother to me, even though we didn’t see each other much after we left school 6 years ago.  
> He was everyone’s best friend, and he was every one of his friends siblings.
> 
> Sometimes we would go months without communication, and then out of nowhere he will pop up and ask how is everything on your end!  
> From then it becomes a conversation that can last hours and hours, and sometimes that’s what we all need at times.
> 
> I feel like I’ve let him down. The last time we spoke, he asked me to come and visit him. I was in his home town at the time but he was at work elsewhere and I was waiting for my car to get fixed, which drained my bank and cut my visit short. I told him I’m sorry I can’t make it, but definitely next time we can, I’ll be there. It’s been too long and we need a catch up.
> 
> Next time never came sadly, as he was taken from us way too soon.  
> From passing his driving test at the beginning of this month, to being cruelly taken away by the very machine that he is licensed to drive only 3 weeks later. Life isn’t fair.
> 
> It hurts to write this, and…I didn’t plan on writing so much, but I got carried away, describing my best friend who I’ll forever miss and always remember.
> 
> Marcus, my brother…I love you mate, we all do. Of all the people who had to go, why did it have to be you?
> 
> You never got to visit my pub did you Beelo? I still have the messages of you so desperately wanting to come see so you could drink the stock dry! I’ll have one on you soon, Beelo.
> 
> I still can’t believe you’re gone, and I don’t want it to be true.
> 
> I’m sorry…
> 
> I just hope you weren’t in any pain.

“Stunning? Yeah if a castle full of terrorists is your kind of sight seeing dream” you really couldn’t help but snort loudly at the British operatives comment.

Well, in all fairness, it was a nice looking castle, but still, you stand by what you said. Anything that involves terrorists isn’t stunning.

“Let’s get a little closer, then I’ll be able to get my EE-ONE-D up in the sky” the Frenchman was already unpacking the drone and toying with it in an effort to save time, hoping to get as much intel in the first outing.

“We’ll use those rocks up ahead to cover ourselves. Any closer and we may be spotted” Maverick pointed in the direction making sure we all saw exactly where he wanted us positioned. You were roughly 400m away, but Thatcher and Kaid came prepared with high powered binoculars.

It was quiet, eerily quiet. Barely a word was spoken as everyone got to work scouting the area, figuring out all possibilities for entrance as well as exits. All possible outcomes of the task at hand and preparation for the worst.  
The silence was only broke when Olivier got his drone airborne.

“I’ve got my eye in the sky. Subsurface echolocation scanner is primed and ready” it was barely a whisper that came out, but in the deathly silent countryside, it was more than loud enough.

Just a few minutes passed and Lion had a detailed map of the entire castle and the underground network that runs through the foundations.

“I’m going to send the map to you all, it should come through in just a moment. (Y/n), you see anything out there?” Lion was furiously tapping away on the keyboard as he asked you a question.

“It looks quiet from here, but I can’t quite see through walls.”

Then your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was just the updated map.

“Take a look, I’m going to hit it again, but I’ll be scanning for movement.” The Frenchman announced with confidence as he brought up his left arm and hit the scan once more.

A series of dots appeared on the map. All moving about. You can tell the direction they’re facing as indicated by the small point at the end of the markers.

You looked at your phone almost confused by everything that’s going on.  
“Feels like I’m in some BTEC level one as fuck movie with weird ass CGI effects”

“That’s because some people like to make things look all fancy and eye catching, though it doesn’t matter in this line of work. I won’t name who, but it’s rather obvious” Mike was also staring at his phone as he chuckled out his response.

“Be-Tech? What’s that supposed to mean?” Maverick asked quizzically, looking up to meet your gaze.

“Oh BTEC is just a spastics version of a GCSE”  
Your explanation wasn’t any use to anyone other than yourself, which you’re soon reminded of.

“What is a GCSE?” Erik asks not knowing either, now looking rather confused.

“Oh, right…General Certificate of Secondary Education. You do these GCSE exams at the end of your school life, unless you’re not quite as smart, then you do BTEC. It’s just a running joke me and my mates have. Makes sense you wouldn’t understand” you really do have a tendency to ramble on about things that don’t matter.

“Back in my day it was called an O-Level or a GCE.” Mike of course had to weigh in on this pointless conversation.

“Guys, you’re not concentrating on the mission, please can we jus—” Lion decided not to finish the sentence, realising that no one was listening to him. He was already losing his patience as you all decided that now was a great time to chat about the British school’s exam grading system and it’s various certificates.

“Alright we get it dad, you’re getting on in life” you said that almost too casually, only realising that you just called Thatcher, dad, in front of everyone here.

“First time you’ve called me that out of the bedroom! You’re growing some balls on ya boyo” things couldn’t get any more embarrassing now could they?

You just wanted to bury yourself in the dirt and wait for this to finish.

No one seemed to care though, which was good. The talk seemed to die off, and Lion used the opportunity to remind everyone to keep focussed. It seemed to work as everyone resumed their job quick enough, though the 5 minutes of peace and quiet was soon interrupted, as the mission seemed to be advancing quicker than you all expected.

“One in the tower, he’s moving fast.” Maverick called out, he was concerned about that one.

“He’s going straight to the window, shit...did they see us?” Lion didn’t like that. It’s facing right towards your position. The dots around that one began to move erratically, you were trying to watch them all.

The pace changed instantly and it took you a little while to process how quick everyone became.  
All the focus now on what’s most important.

“SNIPER, GET DOWN!” Your head snapped towards Thatcher as he shouted to you all to take cover, he dropped his binoculars and dipped.

The sniper was way too quick for you to react.

A single crack in the air was all that was heard. Heard by the other four. You didn’t hear anything at all.  
It was cold.  
Dark. There was nothing.

———

Your eyes opened wide and your entire upper body shot up, breaking from the gentle grasp that held you down. Your breathing became quick and heavy as memories of a certain event flooded your mind.  
You couldn’t see anything in front of you. You pulled your hand up in front of your face and moved it up and down. We’re you blind? Dead?  
It was still cold, which kept you wondering where you were.

But you soon learnt that you were alive and well as a warm, dim light illuminated the small space. Your eyes adjusting slowly to reveal your squad mates almost squashed together in their sleeping bags.

You looked around for a minute, unsure what the time is, but after a few seconds it became apparent to you that it’s still dark out. At a guess, 3am.

The dream played out in your mind exactly how your scouting mission went, with the exception of the enemy sniper and you dying of course.  
But that’s what made it just as terrifying as any horror movie or game induced nightmare could could ever be. How incredibly real it felt had you gasping for air as panic set in.

Looking around you saw that everyone’s eyes were on you, they all studied you meticulously. Worried orbs of all colours examined you all over. To your left in order was Jalal, Olivier and Erik. Mike was to your right, or so you hoped, but his hand came to rest on your right shoulder, confirming that he’s still there.

Kaid looked up at you, asking, “Are you okay, (Y/n)?”

It took you a while to even think of a reply. Getting it out was a whole new task. Hyperventilating and questioning your own sanity at this point took priority over answering your higher-up, but you soon broke to hopefully satisfy Jalal in time with an eagerly awaited answer.

Though it didn’t come smoothly, as you stuttered hard trying to speak. “Y-y-ye-yeah…” you were unsure still, and shivering from the cold.

“Erik can you pass this down to the lad?” Olivier hushed out as he passed a bottle of water over.

Erik could reach fine, being mindful of the other veteran next to him. “Here ya go buddy, you’ll be a-okay.”

You took the bottle with a shaky hand but tried your best to thank them for it without sounding too stupid.

“Ch-cheers” a small smile crossed your lips for a second at the kind gesture.

“Yer lookin’ a little cold there too lad, sure you’ll be alright?” You hoped that you could warm up. Not liking the fact you are feeling like you’re freezing, considering you’re wrapped up in pyjamas and a thick sleeping bag. Getting back to sleep will be a pain. But, hearing Mike’s voice was enough to work wonders with you. It was calming to hear him beside you, and even better when his hot breath tickled your neck.

You could only nod in reply to the man, not wanting to speak too much whilst you’re in this silly state.

Carefully you brought the bottle up to your lips and took small swigs of water every so often, which helped somewhat.

Everyone was sat up at the moment, all looking towards you and making sure you’re okay, which you appreciated a lot. It makes a difference seeing people look at you with concern rather than hatred and resentment.

“Sorry I woke you all up…” you looked down towards your hands and fiddled with the bottle in your hand, feeling a bit sheepish and embarrassed that you bothered everyone at such an inconvenient time.

But it was almost on cue that they all replied with their own words, dismissing the mishap and reassured you once again.

“Nuffin’ tuh worry bout…” Mike began, his West Country accent seemed just as pronounced whilst he was tired. You let out a minuscule sigh of relief just before Thatcher continued on. “Now, c’mere lad, sit up all the way for me just a second.” You couldn’t disobey that gruff, baritone voice, so you did as you’re told.

You looked over to the right to see Mike was pulling his shirt off, revealing his broad, carpeted chest and stomach to everyone in the tent, before handing you his shirt to wear.

“I’ll be alright without it Mike.” You tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re bloody shivering lad, put it on.” The older man insists that you wear it though.

“But won’t you get cold? I’ll be alright without it…” you were still a little quiet and shaky, but slowly calming down.

“Just take the shirt (Y/n).”

“No, Mike. I’ll be fine without it.” You tried handing it back to him.

“Oh for fook sake boyo…stop being such a defiant nobhead” Mike took the shirt back off of you, only to then put it over your head and pull it down, now trapping your arms like you were wearing a straight jacket.

“Arms through lad, you know how to wear a bloody shirt.” You can’t fight him, physically or mentally, so you accepted defeat, putting your arms through the sleeves and wore the large shirt over your own. It was warm and soft, as you’d expect from the warm and soft bear of a man.

That wasn’t the end of it though, as the SAS operative got to work unzipping your sleeping bag. Only for him to soon follow in suit by unzipping his sleeping bag fully.

Both of you had what was now basically a duvet, and you can see where it is going. Mike shuffled to the side and laid your sleeping bag out upside-down, soon shuffling back over and on it before pulling his sleeping bag over himself like a quilt. It wasn’t long until the older man made sure to pull you towards him gently and under the covers, where Thatcher proceeded to embrace you. Then it hit you, the reason your nightmares came back. You have become so accustomed to his warm hold that it was almost essential for you to be wrapped up in his arms whilst you sleep. You’ve always seen him as your safe space. He can make anywhere a safe space. He truly was your safe haven. You had only just realised that the nightmares disappeared when he was there. His presence reassuring even your subconscious, and the cold nights weren’t ever an issue with him.

It’s didn’t take long for you to go limp as you relaxed. Feeling like you’re back home rather than in a tent in the woods.

Coming to think of it, you can’t recall a night with Thatcher that doesn’t involve physical contact.  
Your first couple of weeks after it became official, the two of you would have sex almost every day, or night. Then it slowed down a bit, but one thing that never seemed to disappear is the constant cuddling. You never complained and neither did he. You enjoyed it, and Mike was always happy to give you a hug. They helped on bad days and kept you happy on the good days.

Every night you’d find that spot on his chest that you liked to rest your head and he would make sure to keep at least one arm wrapped around you. You’d fall asleep feeling happy and safe.

That hit you hard too. Realising what your definition of true happiness is. It’s in the one person you fell head over heels for since the day you met. You’ve never truly felt safe until he took you in his arms in an attempt to comfort you whilst you were going berserk, melting down after everything that you bottled up spilled out.

You laid there for a moment, as you finally found your source of happiness, which explains why you can’t ever get enough of the man’s hugs. You gawked like an idiot.

Then you snapped out of your trance like state, finally catching yourself gawking again. Still remembering Mike telling you to be careful who you do that around. You did think that he was making a very subtle and subliminal dick joke when he said it, and, in the end, he did finally make that dick joke out loud and proudly so. Though there was some fair warning behind his words, as you remember Echo managing to fling a little piece of paper at the back of your throat, by using an elastic band, whilst you stood with your mouth agape like an idiot during your introduction to the team. 

Also not forgetting Mike flinging a frozen pea in your mouth whilst you also stared at him, mouth open wide like a basking shark, watching him cook dinner. It wasn’t just a dick he would put in your mouth. 

Gradually you began to warm up to a comfortable temperature. Letting out a muffled groan as you relish in the heat of the older man’s body, feeling the rise and fall of his chest on your back, the vibrations as he speaks sending shivers shooting down your spine, “See, I’ll be warm enough sweetheart”. You should have known this was going to happen.

“Mike, you’re the last person I would have expected this from honestly.” Thorn chuckled out his comment before turning over in his bed.

“You’re not the first to say it matey”

“So then, Mr. Hardass, why the big 180 on the attitude towards workplace relationships?”

“Is it imperative that I answer that question now?”

“No…but I’d love to know.”

“Once this is over and done with, then maybe I’ll tell ya”

It seemed fair, considering it is early morning, at a guess. Though it’s weird getting a little insight to the older man’s life before you. He’s always been soft and sweet with you, but everyone else finds it almost out of character for him. Did you really have that much of an impact on him? Because everyone knows that he’s had an enormous impact on you. 

Maybe it’s time to ask him some questions of your own once you all return back to Hereford. It’s time you learn more about your partner, considering he already knows you better than you know yourself.

There wasn’t anything else to be said from then on though, just quiet snickering, which was almost odd considering there wasn’t anything funny said. Though you ended up chalking that down to Erik finding the idea of a sweet and kind hearted Thatcher almost too funny to handle.

Soon the light went out and everyone was resuming their sleep. You struggled to turn in the older mans grasp but he got the idea and loosened his hold, in which you flipped to your other side to face him. Your arm came to rest over the older man’s side and his arms slowly tightened around you.

“Thank you” you whispered into Mike’s ear before leaning your head on his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, sweet. Get some sleep alright? We got a lot to do in the morning.” Mike replied softly, bringing his hand up and gently caressing your cheek with the back of his index finger, until cotton soft lips found yours in the pitch black of the tent.  
If the others weren’t sleep asleep yet, they could probably hear it all happening. The all too familiar sound of a kiss, almost loud enough to be heard from the next village down the road.

You’ll never ever tire of his taste, or the silky soft beard that tickles every inch of your face every time he captures your lips.

You make sure to savour every second with him, knowing that tomorrow, your nightmare may just become a reality.

The faintest groan escaped your lips as the veteran carefully grasped your growing member from under the covers, using his mouth to cover yours before you started moaning out loud.

You could feel the corners of his lips curl upwards in a smile as he kept you quiet.  
You couldn’t take it anymore though, as his gentle palming already had you close, you tried ever so hard not to whimper.  
Your hand decided to return the favour, which caught Mike off guard completely. He struggled to bite back a low moan as you squeezed his semi hard shaft through his night clothes. Though it seems you have taken it too far.

“Mike, (Y/n)—” It seems you have roused the lion from his slumber. It’d be best to run for your life at this point.

“—don’t mind you two devouring each other and getting close, but please, nothing more? Not the time or place. Merci.” The Frenchman was right, and you both knew it. Still, it was funny.

“I hear ya loud and clear Flament,” Mike whispered as he paused his gentle fondling. A small hitch in his breath indicating that he wasn’t done speaking yet. “Just a quick question though mate. Haven’t you ever had sex whilst camping?” Mike seems too cheery for this time of night, with Olivier of all people too.

There was a silence hanging in the air for much too long, it was almost painful waiting for the reply.

“No. What’s so good about it?” Lion barely purred his answer before he bit the bait.

“It’s fucking in tents.” Mike was trying to hold back a laugh from his own bloody joke.  
Borderline dad joke, even.  
You could feel his chest rapidly rise and fall as he chuckled hard to himself.

You’ve got to be honest though, it was hilarious even though it caught you off guard. You did everything in your power to stop yourself from bursting out into tears of laughter, winning the fight within yourself by letting out a heavily suppressed snort.

Lion didn’t reply immediately and Erik and Jalal snored softly through it all, already deep in their sleep, luckily.

You could almost picture the Frenchman facepalming in the pitch black.

“Fuck off Baker.” It came out playfully with half a chuckle thankfully.

“Go to bloody sleep Flament you humourless muppet.” For a brief moment it felt like the good days back home with your mates. Like the times you could all be laughing your heads off, only for it to stop at an instant, go deadly silent and then your friend Dave just straight up tells you all to fuck off with the most serious tone, which moments later has you all in stitches again. This light, joyous energy seemed to radiate from the two as they bickered like brothers. The tone of voice that Mike used just then was far from angry, keeping the mood up in the tent. Sadly for you, what was just a stupid dad joke turned into a battle of whispers between the two men who were as far apart from each other as possible. By this point in time, you just hoped the other two wouldn’t wake up from it.

“…You’re keeping me up mon ami.”

“You’ll gradually get over it mate. Goodnight.”

Well it was a little anticlimactic, you expected the Frenchman to bite once again, but instead he kept quiet. No complaints though, it’s for the best. You all need to be ready for the mission tomorrow, and pulling an all-nighter won’t help in the slightest.

You laid in dead silence, the sound of leaves rustling just barely loud enough to drone out the soft snoring of the others.  
You fought the urge to open your eyes, you just wanted to sleep now.  
You listened to Thatcher’s deep, calm breaths, in which you timed your own with.

One thing came to mind though.

“Mike…did I actually try to describe what BTEC and GCSE’s were earlier?” No louder than a whisper, you let yourself ask the older man the all important question that nagged you, the dream seeming to be a vivid recollection of the events earlier in the day.

“Yes.” Mike of course whispered back.

“Why?” There’s no reason to ask why, and really, no one should have a clue why.

“Because you sometimes like to waffle on and on and on about things that aren’t even relevant to the situation you’re in”

Well the answer was quite deep, and unexpected.

You felt a little stupid, and slightly guilty, thinking you may have annoyed him with it before.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why ya apologising for?” The older man queried.

“Sounds like I might have annoyed you with it before, sorry.” Again, you’re overly apologetic self can’t stop it.

A silent, minute sigh escaped the older mans lips once again.

“Hrrumph—and again lad…y’know, I like that about ya.”

“What, apologising for everything?”

You almost raised your voice higher than your inside-a-tent-whisper, but managed to suppress yourself.

“No…just, when yer waffling on about something. Usually about something you love, like your car. It’s nice having a breath of fresh air in the place, (Y/n). Don’t ya worry if you keep going off on a tangent every once in a while, alright? Gives us all something we can start talking or laugh about. Keeps the spirits high, babe…” You didn’t expect that from the older man either, but it fills you with confidence and hope for your future here.

“…anyway, sleep time. Goodnight, (Y/n), sleep tight sweet.” Mike placed a gentle peck on your forehead before trying to drift off for the night.

You smiled softly before relaxing again and letting your body go limp.

“Goodnight”

Light snores and minor shuffling were the only small sounds to be heard once you whispered your final word. 10 minutes tops was all it took before everyone passed out for the rest of the night.

_________

“Oi! Lazy arse, wake up—”

Being insulted wasn’t how you planned on waking up in the morning. Anyone else would probably think there was no emotion in his words, none that shows love at least.  
Yet the tone of voice he used that you know so well was always used playfully. It’s not the first time you’ve been greeted in the morning this way.

“I guess it could be a worse position to see you both in—good morning Baker, good morning (Y/n).”

Also not the first time you’ve woken up with the older man towering over you. Hands planted either side of your head, knees placed by your thighs.  
Eyes meet and the first thing that you’re welcomed to is that smile. That damn smile. It was enough motivation for you to wake up.

“Coffee” you gave the veteran your most convincing puppy eyes as you grumbled out your request.

Only for a short moment did Mike slowly lower himself to close the gap. A small peck on the lips and some very discreet grinding had you wide eyed and alert, but under control as to not give away what else was happening. You don’t mind everyone see you being kissed, but much more than that and you begin turning red in the face as embarrassment sets in.

“It isn’t going to be anything special lad, so don’t get your hopes up”

“If it comes from you, it’ll be the best”

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Thatcher’s lips before he gave yours one last tiny peck, and removed himself from your space.

“You’re a fookin’ soppy bastard, (Y/n)” 

There was no doubt about that.

Soon you realised that you’re the only one still laid back. Everyone else was up and changing into their gear.  
That moment then you also realised that none of them cared for privacy. Stripping butt naked for everyone to see, but, you are all guys here, and mature enough not to make a fuss about it.

Your curiosity almost got the better of you though. Not so innocent eyes staring longer than you was necessary at Kaid.  
Man was he big. Not just tall big, but down there big.  
If you remember correctly, he is the tallest of all the operators.  
Though what’s going on down below Jalal’s waist still isn’t quite as big as a certain someone’s who’s currently making a pot of coffee in his night clothes, or well, half of them. You still had his top on.

You were fascinated once again as your eyes examined every inch of his body, the gray hairs that carpeted the commanders entire front were thick. Like Mike, he wasn’t sculpted, but he sure had muscle under the extra layers.  
Surely it must be an age thing, a natural dad-bod appearance strikes at a certain age, and you loved it.

Soon you had to shake your head and rid yourself of such naughty thoughts, otherwise you’ll end up dazing off into a little dreamworld of your own, awkwardly staring the nude Moroccan man down like a hawk that’s locked it’s eyes onto its next meal.

“I’m not cut out for this if all I’m going to do is gaze at men and picture them doing me instead of doing my job”

Luckily that was a thought, sadly it was true.

You’ve been infatuated with Mike since day one, falling in love with more than just his body since your eyes met. Every other thought includes him, and the last thing you need is to be thinking of other guys plowing you whilst you’re out in Hungary on a mission.

“Never seen so many dicks in one place eh?”  
Thatcher asked, turning around to see you gazing at everyone.  
You were quick to respond though.

“I wouldn’t exactly use that word to describe everyone here…”  
Quick as always.

“Alright smart arse” a small chuckle rumbled out of Mike’s mouth, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, you kept watching him as he looked back over his shoulder, eyes carefully examining you.

You could soon smell coffee, not quite like what you have at home considering you’re out in a tent in the middle of another country, but still, it was coffee. Water heated on a little portable gas hob. Coffee itself was Nescafé instant that comes in sachets, sugar and milk too, came in sachets, but you weren’t going to complain.  
You had made sure to bring a cooler bag to keep perishables in.

“Nearly ready lad. Might want to get up and dressed. In your gear too, we will be heading out very soon, best get this show on the road and over with ASAP.”

The gentle reminder was necessary, as you realised almost everyone was kitted up. It was just you who was still under the sleeping bag-made-quilt, and Mike was still half naked, making coffee for everyone and putting it into thermal flasks.  
He doesn’t even need to ask who wants what in their coffee, he’s got everyone covered and remembers exactly what they like.

Sometimes you wished for a memory better than a gold fish.

You stood up, only now realising how tall these tents are. Your head still had a couple of inches to go before you’d be touching the top. Kaid only just manages to fit whilst on his feet.

There was no time wasted in getting changed, realising that it was rather cold in the tent. Pulling the shirts off and making sure to fold them both before placing them down.  
Hesitant to begin with, you managed to ignore the little voices in your head and soon got working on getting the trousers off, there was nothing to be embarrassed about and you kept telling yourself that over and over.

Still, you tried getting into your gear as quickly as possible, slightly hoping no one sees you butt naked.  
It’s almost like you’re thinking out loud though, as Jalal pipes up and attempt to ease you.

“We’re all men here, (Y/n), no need to feel embarrassed”

Flament though, thought it’d be best to tease you.

“He’s rushing because he’s probably got a hard-on for Mike”

The older Brit just chuckles to himself upon hearing the Frenchman joking about.

“(Y/n) mate, Jal is right, we’ve all seen a todger, we’ve all got one…and trust me, nothing can be worse than seeing Porter’s bloody pecker after he got paralytically rat-arsed.”

It was all a little surreal, talking about dicks in a way that’s meant to make you ease up, whilst you remind yourself that you’re in a tent, miles from home.

“Besides, I don’t mind getting an eyeful of yours (Y/n)” Mike flashed a wide grin at you this time, and of course, almost ruins it all. Feeling stupidly paranoid because of that little comment.

“God damn it Mike! Never thought I’d see this side of you” Erik acted shocked, though didn’t seem entirely fazed.

“What side of me? The left?”

“No, you fucking dumbass. The side of you tha—”

“I know, I’m just taking the mick” Mike was now up in Mavericks space, with a thermal flask full of coffee for him.

The American operative’s mouth formed a small ‘O’, and soon a sound accompanied the dumbstruck face.

“…oh—thanks by the way.”

Maverick felt a little dumb, not fully picking up on the hirsute Brit’s playful tone in his voice.

Thatcher slowly made his way around the tent with hot coffee for everyone. He finally reached you whilst you were putting your last sock on. You always put your socks on last for some weird reason.

Mike passed it over to you carefully, which you took in your hands with great caution.

“Should be just how ya like it matey” the older man ruffled your hair gently whilst he gave you a genuine smile. You couldn’t help but smile back whilst staring into his eyes for an extended period of time that most would find uncomfortable.

The rim of the flask met your lips and soon hot, bittersweet liquid touched your tongue, and sure enough it was exactly how you like it.  
Sure it’s not great coffee, but for what you have, it was still damn good.

Once everyone had a coffee in their hands, Mike got to change into his gear, which took him just a little more than a minute. Soon he took his own coffee up in his hands and everyone began discussing plans for the attack over their morning brew.

___________

Once again you all found yourselves up on the hill behind the boulder that sits atop. Fully geared up and ready to get the show on the road.

Mike got to work on the DSR-50, reassembling a few parts and getting it in working order. It was rather awkward carrying it around. It’s not exactly light, and parts had to be disassembled to fit it into a weapons case that isn’t stupidly oversized.

Everyone else including yourself had been checking over their gear and pre-loading magazines for each of your weapons. Carrying 5 spare mags for your L85A2 and 4 spare for the M92F wasn’t too bad. Your vest and harness gear had mag pouches positioned in easy to access areas that won’t get in your way if it ever comes to hand to hand combat with an enemy. You can move freely and not have mags poking you.

You carried 4 modified impact grenades. What’s different is the fact that they don’t exactly explode and cause harm to people or create holes in walls. Upon impact, they release a white cloud that covers an area in a dense, non-toxic smoke.

They would be best used to get away from a situation that you wouldn’t usually be able to without being seen.  
Alternatively you could use it offensively as a means to cover yourself and close ground between the enemy.

Those impact smokes are known to be special to you only. Like Thatcher has his EMP grenades, and Kaid has his electro-claws.

Mira, the head of R&D at Rainbow helped design them, managing to create a slightly smaller than average impact grenade that doesn’t have the explosive properties of one. You wouldn’t be able to explain exactly how it works, it’s all so confusing to you. One thing you do know is that Yumiko came up for the name of them, and like she came up with your operator name, it’s in Japanese.  
She calls them ‘Enmaku-dan/煙幕弾’ which she says roughly translates to smoke screen. Nothing entirely exciting, but hey, it’s in a different language!  
A language, that, you had fun learning before your trip to Japan, in which you purchased your car and imported over.

You had been asked by Masaru why it is that you learnt the language, in which he also guessed the obvious reason being anime’s. He was shocked to find out that you had yet to of watched one, and that the reason was entirely because you wanted to make dealing with the import company and the seller of the car much easier.

In your short visit you did however fall in love with their culture and food, which pushed you to further study the language.

After a few minutes of fiddling with your Enmakudan, you clipped them on to your harness gear with the specially provided strap that crosses the right side of your chest down to the left side of your upper waist. Positioned so that you can access them easily and comfortably with your left hand, which allows you to throw them when you’re holding a handgun.

Next up was your 2 frag grenades, both sitting slightly above the right hip. Your right arm being your dominant. You want the ability to clear a frag as far and as efficiently as possible, considering they are counted as lethal equipment. Last thing you want is a dodgy throw with a cooked grenade which could cost you an arm and a leg, but literally speaking, not figuratively, as if you’re loosely trying to explain how expensive an item is.

It could potentially cost a life too. Not just yours either, but your teammates as well.

Then that was just about it. You were ready.

Butterflies started flying around in your stomach, but not the good ones. Nervous butterflies. Your hands barely shaking, knowing that you’re about to go into your first mission under the orders of Six.

A palm came to rest on your shoulder, in which you turned around to face the man who placed his hand on you.

“First times are always scary, mon ami. But, god is on our side, and we are all here for one another too. This will be easy, (Y/n)!” It was Lion who made contact, and his words helped calm the nerves that tried to control you.

Soon everyone was gathered around and each one of you were fully kitted up.

The nerves were still there, you could feel yourself struggle to swallow air.  
It was all so real as every second passed, but another hand came to snap you out of your daze. Gentle fingers rubbed your ear as you noticed Mike making an attempt to gain your attention.

Soon after you were all going over the final plan on how to execute this mission.

Suggestions thrown left and right, plans shared with one another and routes made using the digital map that Lion made and shared with you all.

“Okay, operative names from here on out. Got it?” Mike confirmed this with everyone, which he was met with replies from all.

“Comms check. Everyone, ear pieces on, mic check and then we are clear. Got it?”  
Thatcher was really taking control of it, but it’s probably for the best. He’s one of the most suitable for that position, and you feel safe knowing he’s in control.

Then time slowed right down, as the moment you secretly dread came.

“Let’s go.”


	16. One E.K.I.A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into the action, finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hollókő Castle does exist, though not on the scale as I describe. I personally imagine it to be a bit bigger than it is IRL, and to see it like it has been refurbished completely. Rather than ruins, it’s intact, electricity exists, hot water in the taps, you could basically live in it is what I’m saying. I don’t know, I’ve not been feeling very creative as of recent.

Almost like you were programmed to obey commands, your feet carried you onwards to the castle along with your team, despite your mind almost screaming at you to stay put.  
You had to slap yourself mentally again, and calm yourself down. You know what you’re getting into, and a clear head is needed for the mission to be a casualty free success.

Then there it was, mere metres from you, the entrance to the rather small castle. The doors are shut, and you don’t think there’s any quiet way to open them. Though it seems you’ve completely forgotten about Mavericks blowtorch, which he was putting together right in front of you.

“The mains run through into this box over here, I’m going to drop an EMP on it, so I need you guys to move back, alright? I don’t want any of you accidentally getting caught up in its discharge.”

Mike has already pulled his throwable little grenade out and twisted the top on it, causing it to charge up. A bright blue light flickered from within as he held onto it.

“At least 25 yards back, just to be safe” Thatcher double checked that everyone was out of the range before he tossed it almost perfectly at his target. The small device hit the ground and rolled the rest of the distance towards the electric box.

The discharge was relatively quiet. Not like an explosion or anything spectacular, but what looked like some sort of blue energy branched out from the grenade.  
It was electricity caused by the Electromagnetic discharge that you could see, and barely hear. You watched as it enveloped the box in a flash, and the next thing you know, every single light in the castle had gone down, leaving the terrorists in the dark.

It’s sure to leave them confused for quite a while, and whilst they probably faff about wondering what caused it, it bought Maverick enough time to open up the door with his blowtorch.

Lion was sure to keep a look out on the other side of the door with a scouting drone. The area was clear luckily, as the outage forced the majority of the White Masks into the basement where they most likely keep everything that is valuable to them.

“Front hall is clear. Kaid and Lion, take the barbed wire and cover our entrance and the main door ahead. Once we have cleared ground and first, Kaid, use your claw devices on the barbed wire. Me and Lion will return to the hill and cover from outside.” Thatcher instructed everyone clearly, whilst priming another EMP which was aimed for the basement stairs, in hopes of killing any electronic devices below that may not be running on the mains supply.

It was quite a daunting plan for you. Always being so attached to the older man, even in the simulation training. To know that he won’t be in arms reach for the majority of this siege slightly unnerved you. But you had to get over this, and push on. If you want to survive this mission and keep your job on team Rainbow Six, then you need to become fully independent when needs be.

“Try and go about the ground floor and above quietly. We don’t want to draw attention to those below, as that’s where the majority are. We will go loud when needs be.” Everyone just listened to Mike, no need to reply at all. You all followed his orders and begin your journey through the castle.

Everyone split up to cover as much ground as possible. Quickly conferring with everyone on which route each of you will take to minimise effort and maximise effectiveness.

5 minutes was how long it took until you came across your first terrorist.  
An open door let you peek into a rather medieval themed dining room. Inside was just one enemy.  
Luckily for you, it was also quite dark. He would randomly move about the room in no particular pattern, but he did have a tendency to keep his back to the door. The window overlooking the landscape was huge, and being up here on their own must get boring, so they kept on peering outside.

You dipped inside and into the shadows. Your dark clothing help keep your rather pale features concealed.  
The thought of using your handgun right now was non existent. Despite being equipped with a suppressor, you know it’s still relatively loud. You you pulled out your knife from your harness gear and slowly made your way towards the unsuspecting terrorist.

The butterflies that tend to fly when you’re nervous had all of a sudden erupted inside of you. Being this close to the enemy, knowing that one little slip up could be the end of you, really didn’t settle well with your mind. But you managed to fight it off, and take complete control of yourself.

Then you make your move. A swift palm came up and connected directly with the terrorists temple. A quiet grunt escaped their lips as they were knocked unconscious almost instantaneously, and within a split second, your shiny, new knife drew its first blood. Swiftly coming across the throat of the White Mask, and then being inserted into the heart of the terrorist without hesitation.  
There’s no way they’re waking up from that, ever, and that is your first confirmed kill to your name, that will go on your record.

“One E.K.I.A.” You announce over the comms, almost proudly.

“Well done mate. 6 so far confirmed, keep’em coming, lads.”

6 already was quite an uplifting bit of news to you. They’re dropping like flies, and after taking down one yourself, you felt good.  
There’s still a little twinge of foreign emotion though, one you can’t quite describe. The feeling of taking a life in the blink of an eye is almost terrifying.

“They’re bad people” you tell yourself, and you’re right about it. They do terrible things, but they’re still human. Corrupted, and fucked up humans. Do they have loved ones? A family? Kids? Some may do, some might not.  
You shouldn’t dwell on it, because in the end, you’re doing this to protect not only yourself, but your, teammates, co-workers, your friends—all the innocent people out there…your lover, the man who you believe truly saved you.

You’re doing this for them, and so are they. You’re keeping this world safe, and that feels fucking fantastic.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you feel the high of your first confirmed kill settle in. It feels incredible.  
“Personal count, 29…wicked”.

“Alright (Y/n) no need to show off” the chuckle that followed the Brit’s comment made you smile.

It was time to leave the dining room and make your way through the rest of the above ground.

The interior of this castle was not entirely what you expected. Half of it looked like it was under a complete renovation. Some rooms were completely modernised and others were kept as they probably were found back in the time the castle was built.

You skipped a few floors as your teammates made their way through, coming to the top floor before the roof access. Up there you found two more White Masks and dispatched them both without an issue.

From there you make your way back to the stairs and head up out of curiosity. Another feature of this castle that was off, was the roof access to the main building was a very modern, box shaped room that you’d typically find on an apartment or office building. Light metal doors block the path to the outside world…or so they would if they were locked. They’re easy to open and close, just a simple door, but they don’t even have one of those closer mechanisms, so you’re mindful of that, as you walk though and make sure to close the door behind you so it doesn’t slam shut.

It was empty up top. The edge had a wall around it. Not a very high one, but it has one.  
No terrorists were patrolling the roof so you took a quick glance at the view around.

You look up and see the tower that Maverick is slowly descending. A dead terrorist atop the structure, their body slumped against the now red stained glass.  
You silently thanked Erik for taking care of that guy, you almost forgot the tower existed. If he hadn’t of already taken care of them, you probably would have been spotted, which would have alerted the rest of them. Worse off, could have ended up in a body bag.

You remind yourself to be mindful of your surroundings, remembering to be extra vigilant.

A quick turn on your heel and you’re headed back for the roof access, ready to regroup back at the main hall, where you’ll finalise an attack plan on the underground hideout, and then act on it. Lion and Thatcher will be outside, with the elder in possession of one of Team Rainbow’s most powerful weapons. The DSR-50.

The road up to the castle is an open but twisty one, and leads to the rear, which won’t be visible from Thatcher’s position once he gets there, but there’s no chance of anyone taking a shortcut by going off road back there due to the rocks and ditches. Any vehicle coming in or out will follow the road, giving Thatcher a lovely view of the paved route.

The 5 of you all regrouped, and huddled together to quietly discuss the plan of action.  
Everyone was keeping their eyes out and an ear perked in case a terrorist comes in to disturb your team talk.

Luckily it went effortlessly, and everyone was on the same page.  
That all being said and done, you were ready for the last push to rid this little Hungarian village of White Masks.

Lion hit his drone once more, updating your current map with last known enemy positions.  
Thatcher was sure to drop an EMP above a high traffic zone underneath. Now that they were done at the moment, they both left to take point outside. Kaid swiftly laid out the barbed wire across the main doorways and set his electro-claw on it, electrifying the wire. He made sure to hide the electro-claw too, so that if the enemies make it up here, they’ll have trouble finding it.

It isn’t visibly noticeable, the fact the barbed wire is electrified. Only when it moves and bits of wire rub against one another, the feint sound of electricity can be heard. If the wind rustles it, it lights up in a flash of sparks and arcs, as it jumps between each strand, giving it that almost cartoony electrified effect for a few seconds. Then it calms down, and it’s unnoticeable. Ready to shock whoever is not expecting it.

Thatcher and Lion were already outside and halfway to their vantage point. Lion will be droning the majority of the time, switching between the ground surveillance drones and his EE-ONE-D, feeding us intel on enemy positions and updating our interactive map as the three of you push in.

Kaid and Maverick were ready, and you were doing a quick check of your equipment before giving the other two a quick nod to affirm that you’re prepared.

The Moroccan man fiddled with his ear piece momentarily, before speaking up.  
“Thatcher, in position?”

Seconds later the Brit replied, a tiny little amount of static could be heard in the background as he spoke up. “Got eyes on mate, you’re covered and clear to make your move.” 

Comms were clear as day and open. Every little word that you utter out of your mouth no matter how far, they will hear it. You’ll try not to start mumbling to yourself in case it distracts your teammates. 

“Let’s move it guys, take them down and gather every bit of information that is important to us. We may find plans of future attacks, or we may find absolutely nothing. But once they’re all dead, then we know there’s a few less of these assholes to worry about.” Erik was already by the top step of the stairs that lead to the basement. Yourself and the older base commander joined the American and headed down slowly. 

Rounding the corner, Maverick raised a hand to bring you to a halt. He carefully peeked around the corner, leaning left against the wall. 

“Basement hallway, 2 tangos, left 11 meters, right 14—” 

A tense pause filled the thick air, leaving you on edge. 

“—left 12 meters stationary. Cellular device in hand and distracted. Right 12 meters, tango 2 back now turned, glancing at tango 1’s phone. Kaid, ready yourself. I’ll take the left, you take the right. On my mark…” 

Maverick was watching them, waiting for a moment to strike, and that moment came when they both got distracted. 

Erik called for Jalal to assist in this takedown, so you leaned against the wall and waited, not wanting to accidentally interfere, and possibly mess it up. 

2 shots rung out in the echoed halls of the basement corridor. 

Sure the weapons are suppressed, but they aren’t like the video games make them out to be, they’re still loud, and surely the rest of them will be wondering what that sound was. 

Now is the time to move. To act fast and execute even faster. You have to think of every possibility from now until the end. You need to memorise the layout in 3 seconds from now using your map, and plan all the routes to take. You need to imagine every possible outcome of each possible encounter, and make all of your decisions on the fly. The time to think is when you do. 

“2 tango’s down. Move it! Kaid take right, Kage, left. We are more than capable to handle our own, let’s get this done clean.” Maverick wasn’t fucking about as he stormed down the hallway, Kaid close behind, until he ducked right through to another hallway and series of rooms. 

You took the door on your left, rifle drawn, trigger finger itching. This excitement that enveloped you kept you pumped. You don’t fear anything right now, you feel in the zone, and ready to take on anyone and anything. 

The first room was empty. Filled with boxes and crates, not labelled but all open and empty. The next door took you into another hallway, this one splits off at the end, but there’s no time to check the map to see what leads where, and 3 enemies stood ahead of you, about 20 metres away. 

Your time spent training was about to be put to the test, and you felt confident. 

12 shots rang out in total, all 12 coming from your L85A2. Easily taking down the first terrorist on the left, before snapping over to the middle and then right, finding their heads immediately. They didn’t have any time to react! They almost didn’t know it was coming. 

You spared no time either, running towards the split end, and before running out, you came to a stop on the left side of the wall and looked right. Terrorists came running towards your position, and your keen ear told you that your left is clear.

Left is where you’re starting, with one door that leads to a single room. You jump out of cover and fire down the hallway, taking three of the terrorists out.  
You ducked into the room before the rest of the terrorists that were behind could line up a shot.

You needed to reload too, but you decided on slinging the AR over your shoulder and pulling out your handgun as you were barging through the door.  
It was a smart decision as two more terrorists sat inside, allowing you to eliminate them effortlessly. Two shots was all it took too. You holstered your Beretta, knowing you have 13 shots left before needing to reload that as well.

Before searching the room, you made sure to swap out the empty mag on your L85, just so you’re ready for the next encounter which should be in about 15 seconds.

You stood ready, to the side of the door. You used the desk that was in the room as decoy cover. Hoping that the other terrorists that come will be focussed on it.

Breathe in.  
Breathe out.  
Breathe in.  
Breathe out.  
Breathe in…  
Hold it.  
Hold it.  
Breathe out.

You needed that quickly.  
Feeling the adrenaline wearing off after splitting up and dashing to this room. Everything happens so quickly, and you know it. But actually experiencing it for yourself, as part of a team, and despite being trained for it was still quite surreal to you.  
Nerves still getting the better of you as your hands started twitching and shaking.

A few seconds to breathe and regain yourself whilst you had the time helped you focus massively.  
Even though the voice that told you not to panic or it’s all over should usually make things worse, it helped you, as a reminder that you must overcome this. There’s someone out there waiting for you to return, and knowing that, gives you the strength to climb this mental mountain of yours.

In came the white masks, loud and aggressive. Door swinging wide and the first few bursts went straight into the table. Good.

You stepped out slightly and took aim instantly, leaning out to the right slightly as you fired at the terrorists.

Almost all your ammo from that magazine went into 4 of the 6 terrorists. All 4 hit dropping down and dying in front of you.  
Without hesitation you booted the terrorist close to you away, knocking him back and into the other, both of them becoming unbalanced afterwards. You pulled out the handgun and shot the first one square in the head, 3 times.

The second and now last one charged you, regaining his balance quickly, but he lost his gun after being knocked by his now deceased friend.

A knife in his hand and the gap much closer than you thought it was. You holstered the handgun and immediately went for the AR that was hanging around your chest. You simply pulled it up towards you and used it to block his incoming attack, before pushing him off with it. You didn’t have time to dodge or counter properly, but you saved yourself big time.

He came at you again, but this time you sidestepped his straightforward lunge, and brought a knee up to his stomach, again distancing yourself from him.  
You quickly pulled the strap over your head so that your L85 was no longer attached to you.  
As the white mask came at you again, you threw your gun at him, causing him to stretch his arms out and catch it. Using this distraction, you swiftly hit him with a twist kick, landing it on his ribs, hard with your right foot.

Within less than a second you were now face to face, your right fist landing clean on their stomach and your right foot now coming from their right side as you land a hook kick to their temple.  
The terrorist was majorly stunned, so you hit them with a quick five strike combo mixup, before finishing them off with a single 9x19 parabellum round to the head.

That felt real good, terrifyingly good. Letting out some hidden anger on a terrorists was infinitely better than a punching bag.  
You took your rifle back from the body and did a quick check out in the hallway to make sure it’s clear.  
No terrorists visible, so you quickly searched the room.

Nothing of use though, so you crossed that room off of the list, and readied yourself to carry on.

5 seconds was all it took for you to be ready at the door to go, your rifle in hand.  
You open the door to the empty hallway, gunshots ringing out, echoing off of the walls as your two teammates took to their job.

There surely can’t be much more to search, checking the map, you had 6 more rooms to go through, and god knows however many terrorists in your way.

“Gotta move it lads, back up is on the way already. 5 vehicles inbound, and surely more to come afterwards” Thatcher warned the three of you inside that things will be getting heated.

Everything came to an abrupt, but minute holt as a cracking sound filled the air, a single shot was fired, sending chills up your spine. You could almost feel it, the raw power in that one pull of the trigger.

The old man was finally getting to play with the big gun.

“One tango down, first vehicle immobilised. Off-road and rolled, one more shot should finish the job” The veteran was very calm and collected, as needs be when dealing with such a weapon that requires an artists eye to pick up such details and finish with such precision.

The man trained countless hours with long ranged weaponry, even giving Rainbow’s resident sniper and spare time artist, Glaz, a run for his money.  
Timur is still known as the best sniper in Team Rainbow though, not even the newest addition, Kali, can beat him, but they sure are close when it comes to their little competitions.

Mike has always been an extremely versatile man, having been in the SAS a lot longer than most, getting the opportunity to train with many different people in his time and sharing each other's knowledge and skills.  
Saying that, most of those in Rainbow strive to be too. Everyone knows that being in this job may require you to swap roles at any given moment, whether it be a lack of what’s needed, or unforeseen circumstances in the heat of the moment.

The only place Mike isn’t versatile, is in bed, which was established a week after you made your life changing move. But there it doesn’t matter.

Yet another whopping big crack filled the air…

***Boom***

Thatcher shot the exposed fuel tank of the car that has rolled on its side, causing it to light up instantly and combust. The car turned into an oversized fragmentation grenade. The fuel tank surely being ripped to shreds, bits of it getting launched up into the interior of the car. The force of it all ripping the rest of the car to shreds as well as their bodies, to the point they’re most likely unrecognisable.

“Move it gents, we don’t have much time left” warned the older Brit. His voice oddly soothing, you didn’t feel panicked at all.

“Going as fast as I can Thatcher, just gotta burn a hole through this door and the gold is ours.”  
The feint sound of Mavericks blowtorch was heard in the background of his mic chatter.  
Gunshots ringing out throughout the entire building signalling that the Moroccan commander was busy keeping the terrorists back.

Kaid was on to the last 2 rooms on his side whilst you still have a fair few to clear.  
With the way things were going though, you seemed like you’ll be done sooner rather than later.

The next 3 rooms were empty of any sort of information or data, or anything of use to you really.  
The few terrorists that roamed had been taken care of without an issue.

“Lion, send us a drone hit, I want to see enemy positions right this second before I enter this room.” Maverick was done breaking in and could hear something.

“Got it, big brother coming in for overwatch”  
You can see why he gets the nickname Lion. When the dial on his drone is turned all the way up to 11, you feel it.  
You can hear it as it roars, making you stop dead in your tracks. That’ll be something you’ll have to get used to.

It’s almost reminiscent of the typical sound effects you find in Hollywood movies.

You looked down at your wrist where your ‘phone’ was, a special, lightweight brace held it in place all snug.  
Your digital smart map updates every 7 milliseconds, enemy positions were highlighted as red/yellow dots. The constant updates let you see where they’re moving.

3 were coming out of the 4th door on the left in roughly 6 seconds. Their dots inching closer and closer, you quickly readied yourself, gun aimed for their position.

The door swings open and they almost immediately begin laying suppressive fire down your end, forcing you to try and gain cover in the almost empty hallway.  
One pops out enough for you to take him out. 4 of your first 9 bullets hit, one of them finding his or her head.

With this you decide to keep spraying your magazine, keeping them suppressed as you get closer to take out the other two.

You were empty, but close. Rather than reloading, you swung your AR around, and tightened the sling so it wouldn’t become a loose weight that’ll throw your balance.

Handgun drawn in the right hand and an impact Enmakudan in the left.  
You made sure to prepare before it went quiet. Kicking the door open to the third room on the left whilst suppressing fire, they wouldn’t of heard it over the sound of your L85A2 dumping its load.

You carefully reached behind you, finding the magazine release, but you didn’t let it drop yet.  
You need to make sure they’re listening for it.

The deathly silence was enough for you to let the magazine drop from your gun, your heart beat picked up in the very short time the mag fell. When it hit the ground you threw your smoke down.

Just as it began to consume you, the terrorist looked towards you, dazed by the smoke. Stray bullets flew in your direction, narrowly missing. It’s a risky game to play when neither of you can’t see, you just have to trust your hearing and hope it’s better than your enemies.

Managing to sneak around using the smoke to your advantage, you got behind the white mask, and without hesitation, brought your knife up to his throat, using your other hand to disarm them in the confusion, to then get them pinned to the floor.  
Quickly you pulled your handgun out, not forgetting the other terrorist, who was still in the smoke, and with a single shot you dropped him.

You held the last one down using most of your weight to keep them pinned.  
Your M92FS now holstered again, you had your other hand free.

Interrogation wasn’t really your forte, but you’re sure you could make them talk with a knife.

“Oi, dick’ed…looking a bit stuck here. Make this easy on me and just tell me where all the important shit is?”

You really aren’t good at it at all. How do you speak to someone threateningly when you have the personality of a wet sponge?

You didn’t get a peep out of him though, but that was expected with your incredible attempt at an interrogation.

The terrorist was laid on his stomach, your knife hand on the floor with the bladed edge up against his throat. Your free hand on the back of his head, gently applying pressure as to slowly cut into him.  
You asked again.

“No messing. Tell me, and maybe you can go about your shitty life with a few scars. Don’t tell me and you’re joining your mates.” Your voice ever so threatening, almost. 

You still don’t know exactly what to say, so you applied a bit more pressure, making sure the blade is pressed harder against his throat. 

Still barely a peep. 

Either way, they’ll be dead at the end of it if they tell you or not. You can’t let another terrorist walk the earth. 

You thought to try one more thing. Flipping the white mask around, you made sure to keep them pinned still, now sat on them, leaning close with the knife across their throat. Drops of blood coating the steel blade, a visible cut still oozing blood slowly from under their chin. 

With your free hand you pulled out his handgun from his holster and fired a bullet millimetres from his head. All happening within a split second, you could see them squint in fear as they thought that was the end for them. It almost made you feel remorseful, as you remember that they too, are human after all. 

But you had to shake that from your head, you’re wasting time and now you understand that they’re doing it on purpose. A certain someone was barking down the mic, telling you that reinforcements are en-route, and that you need to get out of there soon, with everything you can get. 

This time you pointed his handgun at your own head and stared him dead in the eye. 

“Stop fucking with me and tell me what I need to know. I’m done playing games.” That slip of emotion from you whilst they were at their most vulnerable seemed to make them squeal. It was a small moment of human connection, as you both let slip your darkest fears. Both of them being tied together in death. 

Your enemy was afraid to lose their life, and you've always been afraid that you’ll take your own life. 

“End of the hallway on the right is the archives, it’s all in there.” 

It was quiet, but he squealed. You were almost dumbfounded, amazed that you “interrogated” a terrorist. 

You looked at him with a sorrowful look, before softly apologising to him. You killed him with his own gun after he told you what you needed to know. 

In the end he’s still terrorist scum. 

“Hurry it up lads, time is ticking away. They’re making their way up fast. Us two can’t take them all out from here!” Mike was still as calm as ever, though his nature very much commanding. 

You picked yourself up, and made a move for the last door, barging in only to find that it was completely empty of human life. That white mask didn’t lie though. Computers, filing cabinets, the whole lot was in there. Gathering all of their data will take some time, but, it’s needed.

“Kage? Found anything? Me and Kaid are regrouping with Thatcher and Lion. You best hurry up kid.” Mavericks voice almost made you jump, hearing him so loud down your ear as he talked through the comms.

“Yeah, grabbing it all now. I’ll be a minute, don’t worry about me” you tried to reassure them and it seemed to work as they grunted in acknowledgment.

“See you outside soon kid.”

Then they were gone. Moments passed and it was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the computers all booting up so you can remove all the hard drives and USB’s. Whilst they did, you rummaged through every cabinet and file stack you could. Trying to pick out anything that could possibly point towards their intentions.

Anything at all, be it a plan of their next attack, or something that tells you of their current bases.  
Maybe something to do with their leader or whatever they call them.

“Kage, grab whatever you can and get out of there! There’s too many for you to handle them all alone! They’re swarming the building from almost all angles!”  
Kaid was demanding in his orders, it must be getting bad. Gunfire rung out over the comms, as they tried their best to keep them back. There was too many of them to stop them from entering the castle.

You rushed now, grabbing what you’ve found and trying to stuff it in your rather flat and compact rucksack like bag that clips on to your harness. Luckily it’s all paper and small hardware. It fit without issue and didn’t weigh you down.

You were almost ready to leave when you realised there was a desk you hadn’t searched. You don’t want to miss anything important at all, every bit of information is needed right now.

This one had locked draws, so getting in wasn’t easy.  
It took you a solid minute before they all opened, but knowing you are taking longer than expected, you just shoved everything in the bag, not caring if it’s important at all or not. You can’t risk missing something that could mean an easy victory on your next operation.

You could hear them coming in upstairs, you really had to move quickly.

Finally having everything strapped up and ready to go, you gripped your rifle right before bursting out of the room and back into the hallway.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be okay”  
You tried to reassure them all again, in which they all replied with confidence.

“You’ll be out of there no worries lad. Head down, keep quiet and move.” That’s what you like to hear from Thatcher.

You went into full sprint down the hallway, passing the doors of the other rooms that you had previously visited. Making a sharp left just before the end though where the first room you entered was, you picked up the speed and ran, making sure to regulate your breathing and stride, ensuring minimum effort is made whilst gaining maximum output. You need to keep a lot of reserve energy which you’ll use in small bursts once you reach the ground floor.

Exiting the basement didn’t come easily, mind. Some terrorists had found their way down, but not many. They dropped like flies, it was almost too easy, but you don’t want to speak too soon either.

Peeking up the stairs to the ground floor you could see white masks dotted about. There was no chance you could get by undetected.

“I’ve fucked it.”  
You didn’t sound defeated when you said that, but you weren’t exactly ecstatic either.

“What do you mean? You’re still breathing lad, you’ll be alright, trust me.”  
His confidence in you always there.

You need a distraction, one that will hopefully draw a big enough group of them away.

The other four were still shooting those who tried pushing them, and they were holding up well too, you didn’t need to worry about them, only about yourself.

You took a second to think, soon going to reach for one of your Enmakudan’s.

Gripping it tight, you hoped that you’ll be able to throw it far and high enough that they won’t notice it until it hits the ground.

You stuck low, using the stairs to hide yourself from view, a quick countdown from 3 and then you lobbed it.

You peeked up the stairs as it hit the ground, their attention drawn to it, guns pointed in that direction. Now was a good time to use both of your frags.

You launched one in the same direction of the smoke and the second a bit closer and to the right.

At least 8 of them were fatally wounded from them, and as the last one went off, you pushed up, taking aim at those closest to you, and taking them down.

Those few seconds to think gave you an advantage which pushed the odds in your favour.

Once those close to you were taken care of, you looked for those further back. Taking out another two as you do, you almost fail to notice one of them had thrown a grenade at you.  
You run to cover, but the blast launched you into a nearby wall, whilst also collapsing a pillar and part of a walkway above the exit. The door was now blocked and you need another way out.

The fragmentation from the grenade barely missed you bar one little piece which found your left shoulder, but it wasn’t much at all. What was messing with you was the minor concussion and the ringing in your ears. You opened your eyes to see a white cloud enveloping you.

You landed on your smokes and one got set off. Leaving you with just one last smoke, even though the cover is keeping you hidden at the moment.

Quickly stirring back to reality as the older Brits concerned voice asked for you over and over.  
He was worried sick that you were hurt.  
“C’mon, what’s happening? Are you alright? Kage? C’mon, you’ll be okay, c’mon, answer me boy!”

“I’m fine I’m fine…” mostly. It knocked the wind out of you too, causing you to cough up as you were reassuring the old bastard that you’re okay.

“What happened lad? You’re not hurt are you?”

“A grenade happened, but I’m okay. A little scratch on my shoulder that’s it. I need to find another way out.” You managed to calm things down, as you regained yourself and dipped up the stairs in the smoke.

“Quickly now lad, most of them outside have been dealt with. Be careful, alright?” Mike was still a bit worried for you, but that is expected of course.

As you reached the first floor, another grenade came right at you. This time you saw it almost instantly, so you ran back down the stairs and found cover, whilst also taking a few more of them down. Shots from outside found their way through the windows, killing even more of the terrorists, they still had your back.

Problem being is that the stairs are now fucked too, and so is quite a bit of the walkways above.

Things are getting interesting, the ground floor is too hard to run through. You need to go higher.  
You only had one magazine left for your AR, as well as the 15 bullets in its current mag, and 8 bullets left in your handgun magazine.

A quick look around for anything you can use to get the high ground resulted in what you see as a challenging path to the roof. It’ll require a lot of energy if you want to grab onto the ledge of the broken walkway, as well as your last Enmakudan to do so as safely as possible.

You’ll have to move real soon.

With the last 15 in the current mag, you decided to try and take out as many as you can, resulting in 4 of them dropping dead. You quickly got back to cover and reloaded, but this time you tightened the sling on your rifle and slung it over your back, keeping it out the way and in place. You grabbed your last smoke impact and threw it just in front of you out in the open.

You sprinted to the pillar that was still intact, and with every finger crossed, you ran fast at it, placing one foot, then another, and another again, and then one more, running up as far as you can before you lose grip, with the last second before you fall, springing off of it and turning yourself 180° so you can then grab on to the ledge of the broken walkway and pull yourself up.

The familiar sound of Lion’s EE-ONE-D drone absolutely tore through your ears, making your entire body vibrate, it was slightly off putting, but it was over as soon as it started. An onslaught of bullets came ripping through the windows from outside, absolutely decimating a considerable amount of the white masks below you. 

But it’s not over yet. You still had to get up two more floors before you can just make a run for the roof access.

You can use the broken stairs here to your advantage as long as you don’t mess up your footing. One millimetre in one direction could see you falling back down and possibly bringing your life to an abrupt end, be it from a terrible landing or just getting seen by a terrorist as you lay helplessly.

Some parts you’ll have to be incredible careful, as slipping and falling could see you being impaled on some metal rebar, and that is not a way you want to go out.

You don’t have time to plan though either, this is something you need to do straight away, and do so quickly without fault.

So you run, full speed, and leap. Your right foot coming to land and instantly spring you forwards so your left foot can do the same on another bit of the stairs which was crumbling under each step.

Having to turn on the stairs is going to be tricky, having to use what’s left of the wall to your advantage like you used the pillar.

Your foot landing on it and then springing yourself off it to land further up. It was essentially all parkour until the 3rd floor.

“Where are you going?! Why are you going up?”  
Thatcher was slightly irritated, seeing you dashing across the windows as you made your way upwards. But he was just worried for you.

Things got harder though, as parts of the stairs and floor kept breaking away, ready to crumble completely and leave you stranded.  
There’s no slowing down, as you make a mad dash down the walkway, jumping over gaps and avoiding parts that were ready to fall under your feet if you so brush it.

The protective railing on the left gave you some extra height, which you used to step up and launch to the next walkway above where it was broken. To make it you had to use your left foot to propel yourself to the right where the wall was, and instantly you had to place your right foot on the wall to use that as a further boost upwards.  
Grabbing on and hoisting yourself up in a flash, you rolled as you made it up, recovering on to your feet so you can keep your momentum up.

From here it was a dash to the stairs and up the roof access. But you had company.

A lone white mask was up here, and he was about to draw his gun on you from across the other side.

You dipped down quickly and pulled out your handgun, not having time to get your L85A2 ready, nor wanting to have to fiddle about and put it back when you need to move fast.

You jumped up and fired off 7 shots at him, managing to shoot the weapon out of his hands and mangle it up in the process, leaving him defenceless at range. But he was quick too, noticing that he’s only got a knife, he made a run for it, towards the stairs that you need to get up.  
He was too quick for you to risk taking the shot and missing now.

This was a race to the stairs, and you know you can make it before him. You need to before the floor collapses on you.

Every ounce of energy you have, you use to sprint as fast as you possibly can. Making it to the stairs moments before the terrorist does. He made a lunge at you with his knife as you were about to take the first step, narrowly missing you but stumbling as he did. This gave you just enough time to distance yourself, but he was still hot on your tail.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt your energy draining from your body.

But there was the door, you pushed as hard and fast as you could, bursting through, and just to make sure, you managed to catch it with your heel, kicking it closed behind you as you made a dash for the edge.

The door swung open and he was coming for you still, but you weren’t stopping. You were fully committed to it. Your handgun still in a tight grip, you reached the low wall of the roof, with your right foot you placed it on top and jumped up and over. You only had one shot at it now. 

“(Y/N)! Fookin’ Christ NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! BLOODY HELL…” Now Thatcher was breaking the rule of no personal names during an op. Maybe you should have told them what you were thinking of doing, you could hear how scared he was for you. 

With whatever was left of your energy, you rotated your body, turning 180° in midair. Left hand holding your rope, the hook barely dangling above your hand, you threw it up and towards the wall as you peaked in height, hoping it connects. Right hand, your M92FS aimed at the terrorist who was running dead on, you fired the last bullet and landed it on their head, dropping him right there. The hook latched to the inside of the wall and your rope was locked in place, stopping you from dropping. You swung forwards harshly, and went right through a window, the glass shattering, some shards cutting you as you swing in, then back out.

A couple of seconds was all it took for you to manage your rappel gear and you were soon descending the wall, eventually your own two feet come to touch the gravel below.

You made it, still entirely unsure how though.

You weren’t sure it was entirely clear though, so you unclipped as fast as possible, and made a run for the hills where your teammates were covering from. Halfway there you almost stumbled and fell, a dull pain coursing up your left thigh. Surely a cut or two from the glass.

Your team was in sight, you were really pushing yourself to make it back to them, not wanting to look behind you. Maverick and Lion were still firing, keeping you covered.

You made it though, collapsing on to the grass behind the boulder, where Mike and Jalal soon followed afterwards.

“You had me worried boy!” The relief that spread across Mike’s face was good to see as he rushed over to you.

“Took you a little longer than anticipated, get much out of it?” Kaid, though glad to see you in one piece, didn’t dabble on anything else other than the mission. He didn’t need to ask if you’re okay as it was clear you were.

“Everything I grabbed is in here” you say as you’re unclipping your special rucksack-bag-thing from your tactical harness.

Kaid took it from you carefully and placed it in a case, that also contains his and Erik’s findings too.  
“Excellent work, kid. Just be a little more careful next time.”

Almost immediately afterwards, Erik piped up.  
“I think that’s about the last of them! Nice job, guys.”

Only after Maverick announced that you’ve come to the end did you realise that it had gone almost deadly silent again.

“We need to contact the local police and wait for them to arrive, so they can sort out a clean up.” Mike chimed in to add.

Olivier was already one step ahead though,  
“Already on their way. They’ll be 15 minutes.  
I suggest some of us go in for a quick sweep and pick up.”

“Yes, I’ll go. I’ve left a few of my Rtila’s inside.”

“I’ll check the outside perimeter”

Easy as that, Lion, Maverick and Kaid headed down to the castle for one last time, whilst you and Mike were left up on the hill.

Laying down wasn’t the most comfortable at the moment, so you shuffled slightly, sitting up with your back against the boulder, Mike standing 10ft away from you.  
Now that you had time to calm down after pushing yourself so hard, you started to feel the cuts and bruises a lot more, making you gasp every now and then as you moved about.

For some odd reason though, Mike just stared at you. He didn’t look disappointed, but he didn’t look amused either.

“What?”

Couldn’t be any more blunt could you?

No reply, just that deep and unsettling stare.

“Mike?” You spoke his name softly.  
But to no avail, he was still looking at you, almost angrily.

“Did I do something wrong?” You almost asked that sheepishly.

But it got him talking.

“Are yOU AN IDIOT, (Y/N)?!” It was almost a shout, but not entirely. He was still someone composed.

Though his question hurt a little. Why he was getting irate at you after all that wasn’t nice.

“What did I do wrong?” You really don’t know what.

“YOU BLOODY WELL TELL ME HOW JUMPING OFF OF THE FOOKIN’ ROOF WASN’T WRONG!”  
Now he was shouting, and it scared you.

You were almost speechless even. You don’t know how to respond because he was right, even though you made it.  
It was a gamble in the end. If you didn’t throw the hook right, you would of fallen to your death.

“…I—”

“YOU WOULD HAVE FOOKIN’ DIED RIGHT THEN IF YOU’D OF MISSED! DO YOU REALLY UNDERSTAND HOW IRRESPONSIBLE AND ABSOLUTELY IDIOTIC THAT WAS?!”  
He had every right to be angry, even though you hate to see him mad, he is terrifying.

“I—I-I didn’t have a choice...Mike” your mood had changed already, from feeling incredible to now feeling like a belittled child.

Mike didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the others, though he and you don’t realise that your mics are still connected.  
Despite being relieved earlier as you made it back, he’s now just showing you exactly how worried he was for you.

“BUT ALMOST KILLING YOURSELF ISN’T THE RIGHT CHOICE EITHER, (Y/N)!” He’s also right about that too.

You didn’t know how to feel.  
It’s clear to see that Thatcher cares deeply for you, he’s making such a fuss because he was scared to lose you.

You slowly looked up at him with glossy eyes,  
“I’m sorry…”

Mike paced back and forth, only for a minute.

You reached a hand out only to be just short of reach, and Mike didn’t move an inch, still choosing to glare at you.

“I didn’t know what to do I’m an idiot…”

Mike just shook his head, his piercing gaze now fading.

“You’re not an idiot, (Y/N). Don’t…don’t say that about yerself—”  
Now he came closer to you, barely in arms reach and you were holding your hand out for him to take. The older man lowered himself down on to his knee.  
“—you had me so bloody worried! Please don’t do something as reckless as that again, alright? I know you, you could of handled that with a lot more care, my boy.”

You felt like an idiot at least, his hands always warm to the touch, heating up your own.  
You could only nod slightly.

One of Mike’s hands came up to your cheek, which he gently caressed before patting it lightly.  
With a minute grunt, Thatcher stood up, but you didn’t want him to go just yet.  
Just before he distanced himself out of reach once again, you managed to grab hold of his trouser leg.

“Please stay for a minute more.” Barely a whimper that escaped your lips.

You don’t really have the time for this, but you couldn’t help it, and the older man listened, this time taking a seat to your left instead of kneeling.

His right arm snaked over your shoulders and he gently pulled you in.

“You were excellent out there, boyo. I’m very proud of you.” His tone of voice now very relaxing.

His arm slid down your back and under yours, coming to hold you around your waist, where he could gently rub your side.

“You just need to use your bleedin’ noggin a little more!” This time he chuckled as he spoke, which lightened the mood even more so. It was a well earned de-stressing time for you both.

But it wasn’t long until you both had to move again, as police sirens faded into existence in the distance.

You kept thinking to yourself, it’ll be over soon. The ear piercing wail of the sirens was another gentle reminder that you’ve finished your job here, and in good time too.


End file.
